


A Day in the Life

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage Sex, Prostitution, Public Sex, Puppy Play, Rape Fantasy, Rimming, Self-feeding, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Prostitution, Voyeurism, Watersports, Wincest fantasy, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First in <i>A Day in the Life Verse</i>. Jared and Jensen are partners in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2/JDM, A businessman finds himself on the rough end of a business deal. Rape fantasy.

Jeffrey Morgan took off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of the chair that was pushed up to the desk in his hotel suite. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his white shirt.

He rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt as he crossed to the mini-bar and took out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He’d already gotten ice from the machine down the hall. When he removed the paper protector from a glass beside the ice bucket, it flipped out of his hand and onto the floor. He picked it up with a huff and tossed it into the trash.  He dropped a few ice cubes into the glass and poured the liquor over ice into it.

He took a drink and then another sip before setting the glass down and opening his briefcase on the desk. Pulling out the Simonsen file, he began to flip through it. There was a knock at the door, and he almost dumped the contents of the file as he stuffed it back into the pocket of the briefcase.

He crossed the room and opened the door. Two young men in business suits stood outside. Both were tall and broad shouldered.

“Mr. Morgan,” said the shorter of the two. He had dark blond hair and startling green eyes. His smile was polite but unconvincing. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Clay Wright. This is my business partner, Austin Stone.”

“Gentlemen, good to meet you,” Morgan said. “Come in.” He shook their hands as they stepped into his room. “Can I offer you a drink?” He saw a look pass between the two.

“Sure, why not?” Austin said. “Bourbon.” The guy was tall, really tall, with chestnut hair.

“Make it two,” Clay said.

Morgan went to the mini-bar and got two bottles of Maker’s Mark. “How do you take it?”

“On the rocks,” Clay said.

“Have a seat,” Morgan said. He turned to the table and made the drinks. “I appreciate you being able to meet after hours this way. I have a flight first thing in the morning, but I wanted to be able to talk to the two of you about this contract in person.” He found that Clay had seated himself in a chair against the wall, but Austin was still standing at the edge of the seating area with his back to the door. Morgan handed him a drink and then crossed to give one to Clay.

The glass had barely left his hand when his arms were jerked behind his back and held there. The flood of adrenaline made his heart race, and he instinctively struggled until his right arm felt as though it was being wrenched from his shoulder.

“Calm down, Mr. Morgan,” Clay said. He loosened his gray and lavender striped tie. “Why beat around the bush. We aren’t going to rob you. The deal will go through. Let’s just saying, we want a small signing bonus.” He smirked and let his knees splay open.

Clay’s smirk turned into a lazy smile. He palmed the bulge in his trousers. “Don’t play games, Morgan,” he said. “We’ll all come out winners in this.”

The young man behind him didn’t feel human. Morgan’s struggles were nothing to him. Clay set his drink down and leaned forward. He pulled Morgan’s tie off and handed it to Austin who bound Morgan’s wrists behind his back. Clay grasped Morgan’s shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew across the room.

“Not bad for an old guy,” Clay said. He grabbed Morgan’s nipples and twisted them. Morgan yelped in surprise as much as pain. “So sensitive. I like that,” Clay said. He unbuckled Morgan’s belt and opened his fly. The weight of the belt caused the trousers to fall off his hips. He stood there in just his boxers with his pants puddle around his ankles, his ruined shirt hanging open. He flinched when Clay rubbed a hand over the limp flesh concealed behind the thin cotton.

“I knew I shouldn’t trust ...” He was cut off as a knee hit the back of his thigh, and he was forced to kneel at Clay’s feet. “You sons a bitches,” Morgan cursed.

Clay smirked, relaxed back in the chair, and sipped his drink as he watched Morgan’s pathetic attempts to get away from Austin. Clay was clearly confident that Austin didn’t need his help to control Morgan. Morgan tried to twist out of Austin’s grasp, but Clay’s wingtip was suddenly pushed against his crotch. The older man stilled as pressure was applied to his balls.

“There now,” Clay said and leaned back in the chair. “You feel better already, don’t you?” Morgan was breathing like a winded horse as Clay unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. Morgan licked his lips. “What’s the matter? Dry mouth? Huh?” Clay pulled out his cock and smiled. “Mouth watering now, Morgan?”

“Fuck you,” Morgan muttered.

Austin laughed from behind him. “No, dude, you got that backward.” He pushed the man forward.

“No!” Morgan fought against the hands controlling him, and his arms were jerked upward hard enough to make him cry out.

“Don’t make him hurt you,” Clay said. He ran his fingers through Morgan’s hair before grasping it and pulling him closer. “Just be a good whore.” He ran the leaking head of his cock across Morgan’s lips. “Open wide, baby.”

Morgan clenched his jaw and glared at Clay, but his rebellion didn’t last long. Clay’s hand shot out like a snake and slapped him across the face. “What did I tell you, bitch? Suck it or I’ll make you choke on it.” He gripped Morgan’s hair again. “I’ll fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk to the little misses on the phone later.”

Morgan flushed red to the tips of his ears and didn’t meet Clay’s gaze. He opened his mouth and let the thick flesh be fed to him. Clay’s hand moved to the back of Morgan’s head and his hips rolled shallowly. Morgan grunted but sealed his lips around the shaft as Clay fucked into his mouth. His hips came off the chair a little more each time until Morgan’s eyes were watering and he was drooling.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, you fucking slut,” Clay said. “You’re a damned fake, aren’t you? Lying between your wife’s legs. How do you even keep it hard? Huh? Thinking about this, huh? Choking a big juicy cock. Yeah, yeah.”

Morgan had stopped struggling. His eyes were closed, lips stretched obscenely around Clay’s dick while Austin held him immobile. He made no sound but the occasional gag. His hair clung damply to his temples and neck as Clay fucked into his throat with quick snaps of his hips.

“Don’t act like you’ve never done this before,” Clay growled. “Like you don’t want it. It’s everything you want, you cock hungry whore.” He pulled his cock from Morgan’s mouth and painted the businessman’s face with his slick. Morgan didn’t look up. He just hung in Austin’s hands, mouth open, panting, with come clinging to his eyelashes and swollen lips. Clay chuckled. “Yeah, that looks good on you. What do you think the wifey would think of you now?”

Morgan didn’t answer, but his jaw clenched. He barely reacted when Austin jerked him backward.

“Not done yet, slut,” the younger man said. He shoved Morgan’s face into the carpet and yanked his boxers down around his knees. Clay tossed a bottle of Astroglide to Austin who flicked the cap open, pressed the mouth of the bottle to Morgan’s asshole, and squirted a generous amount into him. He chuckled when Morgan twitched at the sensation. “Just trying to be considerate, man,” Austin said. He smacked Morgan on the ass and lowered his fly. He wore nothing under his pants, and his cock, hard and flushed, sprang free. He dug a foil packet from the pocket of his trousers, tore it open and rolled it on his dick with practiced ease.

Austin glanced over at Clay who was zipped up and enjoying his bourbon. They exchanged smiles before Austin lined the head of his dick up with Morgan’s furled hole. He pushed into the man’s body in one determined slide. Morgan let out a strangled cry.

“Holy fuck, that just opened right up for me,” Austin said. He gripped Morgan’s hips and set up a steady rhythm. “Yeah, you fucking whore. Good thing I used a condom, huh? Who knows how many dicks have been here before me. How many shady business deals you make, bitch? Huh? What would the guys in the Rotary think?” He laughed as he sped up. The force of the thrusts were knocking grunts from the man with his cheek pressed to the floor. Morgan’s hard cock bobbed beneath him, slapping his belly and drooling onto the plush carpet.

“That’s what I call a cockslut,” Clay observed.

“Yeah,” Austin agreed. “Yeah, it is.”

“Looks good with my come all over it” Clay said. “Bet it hates that condom. Wishes you could fill it with come, breed it. Don’t you, whore? Wouldn’t you like to go home and sit down to dinner with your ass full of come?”

Morgan’s cock twitched and his release streaked the carpet. Clay laughed.

Morgan’s channel clenched around the hard flesh filling it. “Fuck!” Austin cussed. His hips stuttered in their movement as he spilled into the condom. Austin gave Morgan’s ass another slap and pulled out. Morgan collapsed to the floor. Austin stood, tossed the used condom into the trash and zipped up.

Clay turned his glass up to get the last of the bourbon and rose. He and Austin pulled Morgan to his feet. He didn’t look or speak to either of them. His face was glazed with come and tears. Clay turned down the bed, and Morgan was put into it. Austin covered him with the sheet and blanket. He put a bottle of water next to the bed.

“Thanks for the drink,” Clay said. He went to the desk and picked up the envelope lying on top of the paperwork in Morgan’s briefcase. Austin drained his drink and started for the door.  
“Under the ice bucket,” Morgan said from the bed. He hadn’t turned his head to look at them.

Clay lifted the ice bucket. Beneath it was a hundred dollar bill.

“A tip,” Morgan said.

Clay nodded. “Good doing business with you, Mr. Morgan.”

“Get out,” Morgan said.

Clay exchanged glances with Austin who shrugged and headed for the door. Clay slipped the hundred into his front trouser pocket and handed Austin the envelope. Austin tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. The stepped into the hall and quietly pulled the hotel room door closed behind them.

They waited a few moments at the elevator bank watching the arrow. The doors opened on an empty car and they got in. Both leaned against the back wall, shoulder to shoulder, as the car began its decent. Jared turned and crowded Jensen into the corner, kissed him roughly.

“Not a bad day’s work,” he said when he broke the kiss.

“With that hundred, it’s practically a week’s pay,” Jensen said.

“Mm-hm,” Jared murmured and brought his mouth down over Jensen’s again. Neither responded when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

The murmur of voices from the couple waiting to get on stopped, and the woman looked uncomfortably at her husband who shrugged and pulled their wheeled suitcase onto the car. The woman pressed herself into the opposite corner from the two men and hit the _lobby_ button.

Jared kissed along Jensen’s jawline to his ear. “Fuck,” he growled. “How can I be horny after just fucking that guy?”

There was a gasp from the woman in the corner and the husband cleared his throat. Jensen chuckled. “Down, big guy. You’re scaring the civilians.”

Jared pulled away enough to look into the laughing green eyes. He grinned. “Then I guess I shouldn’t say what I’m going to do to you when we get home.”

Jensen shook his head. “I’ll use my imagination.”

“You do that. We’ll compare notes when we get there.”

“Deal.”

 

 _Talk to me_.


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2/Rachel Miner, A young woman needs a plumber to work on her pipes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

The girl who opened the door was slight but the short chenille bathrobe revealed muscular legs. She looked as though she’d just stepped from the shower with bare feet and face. She blotted water from her dark hair with a fluffy towel. Her brown eyes went wide.

“Oh hi,” she said as though she was surprised and hadn’t called them. “I was just getting out of the shower.

“Oh well, we got a call from a …” the taller one looked at the clipboard,” Ms. Minnow?”

“Minner, M, Miner, Rachel,” she said. She licked her lips and looked from one to the other like a kitten trying to choose between cream and a mouse.

“Right, I’m Mike’.” He gave her a grin that cut dimples into his cheeks and pointed at the name stitched on the left side of his uniform shirt. “And this is Jake, and we’re from ACE Plumbing, and it says here that you have a clogged drain.”

“Yeah, thank God you could come so soon,” she said. She grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him into the bungalow. Jake followed and shut the door behind him. They both wore neat gray shirts, jeans, and work boots. Jake carried a toolbox. “It’s been awful. Everything is backed up,” she said as she led them into the kitchen.

“But the shower’s okay?” Mike asked.

“What?” She looked confused for a moment and then she smirked. “Yes, it’s just the sink drains.”

“Probably need your pipes snaked,” Jake said.

The smirk became a knowing smile. “Yeah, I’m sure of it,” she said and boosted herself up to a sitting position on the counter beside the kitchen sink. “This one and the one in back.”

“In back?” Jake asked.

She nodded toward the hallway. “The sink in the back bathroom.”

“Oh right,” he said. “I’ll go check that one out.” He headed down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“I’ll look at this one first then,” Mike said. He opened the cabinet below the sink, but didn’t move to kneel.

Rachel put her heel on the edge of the counter and wiggled her bubble-gum pink pedicure at him. The hem of the robe slid up revealing her shaved pussy, dusky outer lips and labia almost the color of her nails. Mike stepped forward and untied the belt of her robe. Her sharp little teeth grabbed her bottom lip as he slid the robe off her shoulders. Her full breasts were dwarfed by his hands. He rubbed his thumbs over her prominent nipples. She arched into his hands. She offered her mouth, and he kissed her while rolling her nipples between his fingers.

“Come on, handyman, show me how you snake a pipe,” she said.

“You’re mighty impatient, ma’am,” he said.

“It’s not like you’re getting paid by the hour, cowboy,” she said.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Not a cowboy. This is the plumber fantasy.”

She started to giggle, he dropped his hand between her legs and found her pussy sloppy wet with her juices. He pushed two long fingers into her, and rubbed his thumb against her clit. She gasped and arched into his touch.

“You have no idea how inconvenient clogged pipes are for a girl,” she groaned as she wiggled on the countertop.

Mike held back a laugh and just grinned. He opened his fly, pulled out his cock, and stroked it to full hardness.  He fished a condom out of his pocket and tore it open.

“Too bad,” she said. “I’m sure some drain cleaner would help.”

He shook his head. “You know we don’t work that way,” he said as he rolled the condom on. He opened her lips with the head of his cock. The loose end of the condom disappeared between them.

“Jesus,” she said, looking down at what was about to split her open. “Do it.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him forward. He grabbed her ass and pulled her onto his cock. He could feel her fingernails dig into his shoulders right through his shirt. She cried out and clenched around him as he fucked into her.

“I think that back drain needs snaked too,” Jake said from behind Mike.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “This one’s really taking some work.” He lifted Rachel clean off the counter and turned around. She weighed almost nothing, and he bobbed her up and down on his dick as he watched Jake take a bottle of lube from the toolbox and slick his fingers. She threw her head back and moaned when Jake pushed a slick finger into her ass. He worked it in and out of the soft, tight heat before slipping another in.

Her forehead fell forward. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she mumbled against Mike’s shoulder.

As Jake continued stretching Rachel’s opening, he unzipped and stroked his cock. Mike watched him with heightened arousal. Jake looked up and held his gaze. There was hunger there. _I love you_ , Jake silently mouthed. Mike smiled and watched Jake put a condom on before stepping close behind Rachel.

Mike’s knees felt weak when Jake pushed in The length of Jake’s cock slid along his through the thin wall of flesh separating them. It was so hot and tight and overwhelming. And Jensen was right there, hungry eyes and flushed cheeks, and Jared could almost feel his lips against his, taste his mouth.

Rachel cried out and writhed between them. Jake pulled out and slammed back in, and Mike began to move again in counterpoint.

“Yes! Ah, yes, yes!” Rachel cried.

Mike was supporting her, which left Jake able to pull her back against his chest and cup her breasts, roll and tease the pebbled flesh of her nipples, twist the hard nubs as he rolled his hips. Jesus, she was so small, could take so much and just keep begging for more. Jared’s dick, so thick and long, was rubbing against his with every thrust. He was already on edge. He was supposed to be a professional, but fuck, his orgasm hit. His rhythm faltered for a second, and Mike looked questioningly at him. He returned a ‘what can you do’ eyebrow cock and kept going.

Jake was barely moving, but his erection wouldn’t go as long as Mike kept up the pounding he was giving Rachel who was gasping and moaning. Jake almost couldn’t take the friction against his oversensitive cock. It was torture. He kneaded Rachel’s breasts and put his mouth to her ear.

“Time to flush your pipes, baby. Come on,” he growled. It was the cheesiest porn dialogue he could imagine but whatever. She flailed between them, and her head fell back against his shoulder, mouth open wide, gasping. He went completely still as her channel clamped down on him. Mike groaned, and Jake could feel his lover’s cock twitching. He observed the familiar face, eyes closed in pleasure.

Jake let his dick slip from Rachel’s body, and Mike turned and sat her on the counter. They disposed of the condoms in the kitchen trash can, tucked in and zipped up. Jake packed up the toolbox while Mike wrote out an invoice and handed it to Rachel. She pulled the robe back up over her shoulders but left it open. She leaned back on her hands. Her hair was still damp but now from sweat and it fell around her flushed face.

“You two do such good work,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Sure you can,” Jake said.

She made a face at him. “It’s in the bag there on the table.”

As Mike went to the refrigerator, Jake picked up the brown paper bag from the table, and his brows knit at the weight of it. He peaked inside and chuckled.  Mike was pouring a glass of sweet tea that he handed to Rachel.

“Hydrate,” he said. “Take care, Rache.”

“I will, and thanks again,” she said. “I wish real plumbers were as dependable and professional as you guys.”

“You’re saying we’re not real plumbers?” Jake asked.

She laughed and slipped down from the counter. “I’m saying, I get a lot more satisfaction from the service you provide.”

“You’ve obviously never had your toilet back up,” Mike said.

She chuckled as she followed them to the door. “You got me there,” she said. “Anyway, you all do good work.”

“Customer service is our number one priority,” Jake said as he opened the door.

“I’m counting on it,” she said. “I have a feeling my cable is going to go out next week.”

Jake and Mike exchanged a look. “I think we can handle that,” Mike said.

“I’m sure you can,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll call you.”

“You do that,” Jake said.

They strode down the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder, and Jake wondered if the neighbors ever noticed the same repairmen come out week after week and get into a Lexus RX450h. He put the toolbox in back and slid behind the wheel.

“So?” Jared asked from the passenger seat.

“What?”

“You had the oddest look on your face when you looked in the bag,” Jared said.

Jensen handed it to him, and Jared took it and peered inside. Beside the stack of bills was a bag of Red Vines.

“Awesome,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Jensen said as he pulled the vehicle from the curb. “New guy gives us a hundred dollar tip; regular gives us candy.”

“We love candy,” Jared said as he opened the red, white and blue bag. “She was being thoughtful.”

“You know how much thoughtfulness we could buy for a hundred bucks?”

“Jeez, you’re so cynical, Jen.” He bit the end off a strand of the red licorice.

“She’s a customer,” Jensen said. “Not a friend.”

“I know.” Jared chewed thoughtfully. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with customers.” He took another strand and held it out to Jensen who side-eyed him and then opened his mouth to accept it. He bit the end off, and neither spoke. Jared pulled another piece of candy out and began to work his way through it.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Jensen finally said.

“What?”

“No harm being friendly.”

Jared nodded. “Like I said.”

“Shut up.”

Jared smiled and rubbed Jensen’s knee.

“No, I mean it. Shut up.”

Jared laughed.

 

 _Talk to me_.  



	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2/James Patrick Stuart, Political subterfuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, commando.

It felt like a night off as they weaved their way through the crowd surrounding the dance floor. The Silver Muse Club had been open only a couple of months. White Doric columns and Greek key medallions gleamed against the matte black walls. Pretty, willowy boys in barely there togas with golden wreaths on their brows danced on platforms and delivered drinks to patrons reclining on low banquettes.

They made their way toward the bar that masqueraded as a replica of the Parthenon. It was surprisingly busy for a weeknight, and they had to circle to find two stools together. Two bartenders worked the large rectangular space, and the one who approached was muscular and wore a gladiator kilt and sandals. He had the patrician nose of a Greek and black wavy hair. His dark eyes danced over Alec and Tom. He gave them a bright smile.

He leaned over the bar to be heard above the music. “What can I get you?” he asked.

“Rum and Coke,” Tom said.

“Maker’s on the rocks,” Alec said. “And a Senator.”

The bartender’s brows rose, and he nodded. Alec drummed his fingers on the bar and watched the young man toss ice in two glasses, add liquor and bring them back to the bar. He shot soda into the tall glass and placed them both on napkins before sliding them across the bar.

“Twelve-fifty,” he said. He waited until Alec handed him a ten and a five and added. “Temple of Eros in back.”

“Thanks,” Alec said and took a drink and laid a twenty on the bar.

“So ...” Tom said.

“Yeah, shall we?”

They rose and began making their way toward the back of the room. The crowd surged around them to the pulse of the music. They were large enough to break a path ahead of them. A drunk girl bounced off Tom and nearly flattened her friend on the rebound.

Alec’s lip curled in disgust. “This crowd is ridiculous for a Wednesday.”

“This place is ridiculous,” Tom said with a shake of his head.

Alec stopped to let a pretty server with dark hair and pierced nipples pass. “Yeah, mostly.”

“We’re working,” Tom said.

“Just looking,” Alec said with a smile.

The entered a hallway lined with bodies in various states of dress. Some were talking, some snorting powder, some lost in one another’s bodies. They passed a number of doors. Each had a name plate and was decorated with various Greek motifs. One was grander than the last. The last of the doors read Temple of Eros.  Golden columns flanked the door and a man as tall as Tom, but with the neck of a bull, stood outside.

He eyed their attire of jeans and V-necks. “Wrong party,” he said.

“We’re Alec and Tom, the party crashers,” Alec said.

The man looked them over again and opened the door. The room was decorated with potted palms, and lights beneath them threw their shadows across Aegean blue walls. The servers wore g-strings of golden cord and leaves. Their lips and eyelids were painted gold as well. Men in business suits eyed Alec and Tom over their cocktails. Voices rose and fell, punctuated by laughter and made indistinguishable by Annie Lenox singing about sweet dreams. The contrast between the sex and drugs in the hallway and the business after-hours feel of the room was startling.

“What the fuck is this?” Tom asked in Alec’s ear.

Alec shook his head and eased toward the bar. He drained his bourbon glass and set it on the tray of a passing server. He kept scanning the room, and there in a dark corner, he spotted it. A man in a suit leaning on the wall with his back to the room, and at his feet was a server on his knees.

“It’s paranoia,” he said. “Look in the corner.”

“How do people live this way?” Tom asked.

“Hi,” Alec said to the bartender with a smile. “Just a Coke, thanks.”

“Sure,” the young man said. Alec was so fascinated by the gold clinging to the guy’s lashes that he didn’t notice the man that leaned against the bar beside him until the bartender set his drink down.

“Put that on my tab,” the man said.

“Sorry?” Alec said.

The man smiled a shark’s smile, and Alec recognized him. Senator James Patrick Stuart, who now filled his father’s seat in the Senate.

“I don’t believe you were on the guest list,” Stuart said. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t know you.”

“I ...”

“Because I would remember _you_.” Stuart eyed them up and down and met Alec’s eye on the last word. Alec felt like he was looking into the open maw of a predator at that moment.

“I’m Alec; this is Tom. We had a special invitation,” Tom said. He was standing slightly behind Alec, and his hand came to rest between Alec’s shoulder blades.

Stuart’s gaze flicked back and forth between them. “I’m sure you did.” He picked up his drink cradled in the napkin. He leaned an elbow on the bar. “Have you been here before? This place is amazing. A rabbit warren of private rooms. Great place to do _business_.”

“Is it?” Alec asked.

Stuart nodded and looked around the room. “You know how I know? I’m an invisible partner.” He took a drink and smiled at them. “You should take a look around.” He nodded toward a door at the back of the room. “Follow the chain.” He pushed away from the bar and walked away.

“Follow the chain?” Tom asked.

“This was a bad idea,” Alec said.

“Yeah,” Tom said. “You think? That dude is cryptic as shit.”

“Politicians. I hate politicians,” Alec said. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Could be dangerous,” Tom said.

“Yeah.” Alec’s blood was pumping, and he downed his drink. “Let’s go.” A hand gripped his arm.

“Jen.”  
He looked back at Jared whose brows were knitted, and he smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on.”

Tom followed him to the door that Stuart had passed through. He didn’t look to see if anyone was watching or hesitate before turning the knob and passing through. They entered a narrow hallway lit by wall sconces beside nondescript doors on the right. The floor was white hexagonal tile with a Greek key boarder along the right wall and a chain pattern along the left.

“The chain,” Alec said.

“Jesus, are you sure this is cool?” Tom asked. “Feels like we’re in some bad horror movie or something.”

“Really?”

“No, well ... It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Alec said as he started down the hall. Again, a hand grabbed his arm and halted him.

“Hey, are you sure about this?” Jared asked.

Jensen faced him and slipped his arm around Jared’s waist. “Have I ever been wrong?”

“No,” Jared said. “No, of course not. This just, this is a senator, Jen. This is high stakes.”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, he’s just being careful. That’s all.”

Jared drew a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just nerves, you know?”

“I know, baby.” He tipped his chin up and kissed Jared, received a smile as reward. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

When the hallway branched off to the left, the chain followed and so did they. Two turns later, they came to a door at the end of the hallway. The door opened to a men’s restroom – a stall, three urinals, two sinks. There was nothing remarkable about it. The mirror was spotted with water. The trash can overflowed with crumpled paper towels. A man stood facing the center urinal. Stuart. The sound of urine hitting porcelain could be heard in the hush of the small tile room.

Stuart’s shoulders twitched at the click of Tom turning the deadbolt on the door. He and Alec approached and took places on each side of the senator. The splash faltered, restarted, and then faltered again as Tom and Alec unzipped and took out their cocks. They made no secret of checking out the senator’s dick. It was respectable but unimpressive compared to theirs.

Stuart didn’t turn his head, but his eyes fixed on Alec’s hand as he tugged at his own cock and stroked it to hardness. There was color high in Stuart’s cheeks as Tom’s hand slipped under the man’s suit jacket and down the back of his trousers.

“Like what you see?” Tom asked.

Stuart swallowed hard and nodded.

“Touch it,” Alec said. “Go ahead. No one here but us, man.” He turned slightly toward Stuart and moved his hand away as Stuart grasped the precome slick length. Tom turned the man to face Alec and pushed his trousers and shorts around his thighs. He worked a spit slicked finger between the man’s ass cheeks and rubbed over the puckered opening there. It twitched against his fingertip and blood rushed to his cock.

“Come here,” Alec said and moved backward to lean against the sink. Stuart never let go of Alec’s cock as Tom shuffled him forward. “You just gonna give me a handjob?”

“No,” Stuart said. His pupils were blown and his breathing was labored. “I ...”

“So what are you waiting for? An invitation? Dinner and a movie?” Alec asked.

Stuarts jaw clenched and anger flared in his eyes. “I’m not paying you for romance.”

Alec smiled. “That’s right. _I’m_ the whore, so let’s do what you’re paying us for.”

Stuart dropped to his knees and swallowed Alec’s cock like a starving man. Alec’s eyes slammed shut, and he gasped. If Tom hadn’t been so turned on by it, he would have laughed at the unprofessional reaction. Instead, he stepped in beside Alec and pulled his cock out. He watched Stuart’s mouth working the shaft of Alec’s cock.

“How about some attention here, Senator?” he said.

Stuart’s gaze slipped to Tom’s hard, flushed length, and his eyes widened. He pulled his mouth of Alec’s cock but kept stroking it with his right hand as he grasped Tom’s with his left and licked at the head, moaned, and engulfed it with his mouth. He sucked cock like he did the corporate teat in the Senate. Tom put his hand on the man’s head and urged him on. Alec turned toward them and nudged at Stuart’s cheek with the slick head of his dick.

“Open up,” Alec growled. “Do it.”

Stuart opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and Alec pushed the crown in beside Tom’s. Stuart couldn’t take both of them much past the head. His lips were stretched obscenely around the thick flesh filling his mouth.

At that moment there was the click of the deadbolt, and three men pushed their way into the room. Two held digital cameras and the other a mini-recorder. He began firing questions at Stuart, “Senator, how do you think this will affect your chances of reelection next fall? Does this mean that you will be changing your stance on marriage equality?”

Stuart’s struggled under Tom’s hands, but Tom tightened his grip, and Alec sunk his fingers into Stuart’s hair and grasped it, fucked into the man’s mouth. Still, the questions kept coming, and flashbulbs were going off at regular intervals. “Senator, does your father know you’re gay? How do you think this will affect his health? Will you change your stance on gays adopting children? What about your Christian constituents? What will you say to them?”

Stuart was making pained gagging sounds. Tears ran from the corners of his eyes, and his chin was glazed with spit and precome. His hand moved furiously at the open fly of his trousers. Alec pulled out of the Senator’s mouth and painted his face with pearly ropes of come, and Tom pushed deep into his throat as he filled his belly with jizz.

The reporter abruptly stopped asking questions and moved back as the photographers moved closer. Stuart nose was pressed against Tom’s groin, and his breathing was a muffled snuffling that Tom felt against his skin, panicked and desperate, but he didn’t let the man go until every drop of come was released. One photographer was crouched down snapping photos of Stuart’s hand stripping his cock and then the puddle of come on the dirty tile. He nodded at the other photographer and reporter and stood.

Tom let his cock slide from Stuart’s throat and pushed him away. The senator went on all fours, his head hanging down, and Alec was already wiping spit and come from his cock with a length of brown paper towel. Tom did the same and zipped up.

“Would you like to make a statement, Senator?” the reporter asked.

“No! No comment,” Stuart said.

The reporter just nodded and slipped from the room followed by the photographers. Stuart gripped the edge of the sink and pulled himself to his feet. He ran water on a clump of toweling and inspected himself in the mirror as he wiped his face and then his cock.

Alec and Tom had pulled themselves together and were at the door when he turned around with his greasy politician’s smile. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Good doing business with you. Now, if you don’t mind, I should get back to my guests.”

They didn’t move, and Alec gave him a hard stare.

Stuart smirked. “That’s right. You’re whores,” he said. “Ask the doorman for the campaign literature I left for you.”

Alec’s expression didn’t change. He just left the room and headed back down the narrow hallway.

“Jesus, what an asshole,” Jared said.

“Whores,” Jensen said. Then he laughed. “I’d rather be an honest whore than live this lie.”

Jared nodded. “No doubt.”

As they made their way through the Temple of Eros, they saw more men in suits with servers on their knees at their feet. Jensen scowled, and Jared’s hand went to the small of his back as though guiding him.

The bullnecked doorman was still at the door, but he didn’t look at them until Jensen spoke. “Senator Stuart said you’d have some campaign literature for us.”

The doorman looked uncomfortable as he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it Jensen and focused his attention back on the opposite wall.

“Thanks, you’re a charmer,” Jensen said with a wide smile.

Jared poked him in the ribs. “Let’s go.”

Jensen shot him a look but began weaving his way back through the crowd, which was even tighter with bodies and surging with the beat of the music, fueled by alcohol and poppers and meth.

The night air was cool when they hit the sidewalk, and Jensen rolled his shoulders. “I feel like I need a hot shower ... with lye soap.”

Jared snorted. “Yeah, I feel like some of the sleaze rubbed off too.”

Jensen nodded and watched the sidewalk pass under his feet for a moment. “You know what though? I don’t feel like going home.”

“No?”

“No.” He grabbed Jared’s arm and pressed him against a brick wall in the shadows along the sidewalk. “I feel like going to the _Bit and Harness_ , drinking too much, dancing too much, and then taking you in the back room.” He crushed his mouth against Jared’s and kissed him breathless.

“Jesus,” Jared breathed when Jensen broke the kiss.

“Is that a yes?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jared chuckled.

“Good,” Jensen said. He grabbed Jared’s wrist and pulled him away from the wall and down the sidewalk.

“Hey, wait, what are you going to do to me in the back room?”

Jensen’s laugh rang down the street.

 

 _Talk to me_.


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2, Samantha Ferris. Some customers just like to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commando. And oh yeah, **no het.**

Jared and Jensen approached the familiar 1960s era glass and dark wood house. Neatly trimmed, low evergreens lined the gravel path to the dimly lit stoop. The oak door swung open at their knock.

The woman who opened it was wore black silk lounge pants and a red wrap-top that barely contained her ample bosoms. Her lush hair spilled over her shoulders, and small crow’s feet bracketed her eyes when she smiled. “Boys, come on in,” she said in a husky voice.

“Ms. Ferris,” Jensen said as they stepped inside and she swung the door shut.

“Always, so formal, Jensen,” she said. “Samantha, please.”

“You look gorgeous tonight, Samantha,” Jared said.

She chuckled. “And you are always the charmer.”

“I don’t disagree with him,” Jensen said. “You are especially lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Shall we?” She turned and walked into the darkness of the entryway. She made a right and they followed her down a hallway to a back bedroom. It was the usual set up: Half the room was bathed in light and the rest was dark. It was a theater, and tonight they were performers.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Samantha asked. “Little something to calm the nerves.”

Jensen licked his lips. “Please.” There was a small sitting area with a couple of chairs and an occasional table just inside the door. He kicked off his shoes and pushed them under a chair before stripping off his shirt. Jared was already down to his boxer briefs.

“Here you are,” Samantha said. She held out a glass of bourbon on the rocks. “No need to be nervous, honey. You know I don’t bite.”

Jensen gave her wane smile and took a sip of his drink. He watched her walk away. She unbelted the short wrap and slipped it off. Her heavy breasts fell over the top of a red and black corset. She glanced back with a wicked gleam in her eye, and he looked away.

Jared was nothing but acres of golden skin, and Jensen took a deep breath, another drink of the oaky amber liquid. Jared massaged the back of Jensen’s neck with a big warm hand and kissed his temple.

“It’s just us,” he whispered.

It hadn’t always been this way. The first couple of times they’d gone to Samantha’s, they’d had fake names and scenarios to act out, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t just want to see a couple of hot guys getting each other off. She wanted to see intimacy. She wanted to see them.

Jensen didn’t like it. The businessman in him said it was harmless, and she paid a premium for it. They’d negotiated with her and gotten the bright lights and darkness that allowed her to see them without them seeing her.

The thumb of Jared’s other hand skimmed over Jensen’s nipple, and Jensen shivered. Jared’s chuckle was low and warm in his ear. The hand moved down, cupped Jensen’s cock and balls through his pants and massaged them. Music spilled from the corners of the room, an insidious beat, bass and guitar, Prince’s falsetto, “Lady cab driver, roll down your window fast ...”

Jared’s hand manipulated Jensen’s belt buckle and fly, turned him and with both hands, pushed his pants a boxers down. Jensen knocked back the rest of his drink and put his glass down. He stepped out of his trousers and pulled his socks off. Jared took his hands and led him to the bed in the glare of the spot lights.

Jared was beautiful. The right side of his face was bathed in light. His eyes shown blue and brown and green. He winked at Jensen with his left eye, and Jensen felt some of the tension ease away. Jared pulled him into his arms and kissed him. The familiar mouth and hands and body seemed to wake Jensen up. His hands explored the dips and curves of Jared’s back, the divot at the base of spine already damp with perspiration. There was something about the way Jared curled his tongue against the roof of Jensen’s mouth that made him moan. He felt Jared’s lips curve into a smile at the sound.

A giant paw grabbed Jensen’s ass-cheek and pulled their bellies tight together, hard cocks trapped side by side between them. The slightest movement sent skitters up his spine. He felt uncertain, off-balance, and he knew Jared sensed it. He let Jared take control, turn him, push him off balance and lay him across the bed.

There was a mirror on the ceiling, and he tried not think of how it was there so Samantha could get another view of them. Instead, he watched the muscles stretch and bunch in Jared’s shoulders, the way his legs parted for Jared’s knee to slip between them, Jared’s bent head as he licked across Jensen’s neck. He turned his face away, and Jared sucked at the sensitive spot below his ear. Jensen’s body arched off the bed seeking contact.

“Slow down, Jen,” he whispered before suckling Jensen’s earlobe. He worried the tender bit of flesh between his lips and teeth until Jensen was panting and his fingers digging into Jared’s ribs trying to pull him even closer. The arch of Jensen’s foot rubbed the back of Jared’s calf, and Jared huffed a laugh against Jensen’s neck and laved a stripe along the salty skin. “So eager, darlin’,” he whispered.

Jensen swallowed the needy sound that tried to push from his throat. He was quivering with lust and apprehension. There were eyes on them. Watching. Wanting. He pushed the anxiety down and turned his head, caught Jared’s mouth with his own and licked inside. His fingers tangled in Jared’s hair, held him so their mouths slotted together. The short stubble along Jared’s lip burned his own, but he just lapped deeper into the hot, wet cave. His legs went around Jared’s waist and tugged at him. He swallowed Jared’s chuckle.

Jared pulled back, his hair hung around his face, and he gazed down at Jensen with that expression that made Jensen’s heart feel as though it would burst. It said that Jensen was the most important thing in Jared’s world. Jensen tipped his head away from the lights and smiled. Jared flashed him a grin then and dropped his head and flicked at a nipple with the tip of his tongue. Jensen shuddered and made a sound that brought a blush to his cheeks.

“Stop!” He pushed at Jared’s shoulder, but Jared grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the bed as he suckled the nipple. Jensen wriggled and went for Jared’s ribs with the other hand, but Jared grabbed it too and pinned it.

“Stop! Stop it, asshole!” Jensen hissed, but Jared didn’t. They both knew the game. Jensen could put an end to it at any moment, but pride and need wouldn’t let him. His cock was rock hard and drooling a puddle on his belly as Jared’s was as well. Jared didn’t let up. He went from one nipple to the other sucking and licking and flicking at them.

He felt possessed and desperate, at the mercy of his body. “Please!” he said in surrender.

Fox-tilted eyes looked up and Jared’s mouth curled into a smug smile. “Please what, darlin’?”

Jensen’s breath heaved in his chest and he wanted to smack that smile of his lover’s face. “Please, fuck me.”

A wide smile pulled at Jared’s mouth, dimples divoting his cheeks. “Anything you want, Jen.” He let go of Jensen’s wrists and leaned back, dragging his hand through the copious pool of precome on Jensen’s belly and slicking his cock with it. Part of Jensen wanted to swallow that long, thick, gorgeous length of flesh, but he wanted it to split him open more.

He tightened his legs around Jared and lifted his ass off the bed. Jared rubbed the slick head of his cock over sensitive furled flesh. “Now, now,” Jensen demanded. Jared urged his cock forward and watched as Jensen’s body opened under the slight pressure. He kept moving with torturous slowness until his dick was fully enveloped inside the soft crush of Jensen’s body. Jensen fisted the sheets and moaned. Jared leaned down and gave him a messy kiss before leaning back and starting the long, slow drag back out. When the head caught on the rim of Jensen’s hole, Jared paused with a smirk before plunging back in.

Jensen threw his head back and let out a cry. Jared pumped into him with long, powerful strokes. He moved Jensen’s legs from around his waist and pushed them up and back over Jensen’s shoulders. The new angle brought moans from Jensen’s throat, and Jared just lifted his hips higher until Jensen’s weight was resting on his shoulders. Jensen’s eyes were clamped shut, and he panted. Cut-off moans and whimpers escaped his throat.

“That good, Jen? Huh? Jack your cock. Come on,” Jared said. “Wanna see it.”

It took Jensen a moment to process before he reached up and grasped his dick, began stroking it. It was flushed and hard and a long string of precome oozed from the slit onto Jensen’s chin. His tongue snaked out and licked at it.

“Fuck,” Jared cursed. “Jack it.”

Jensen’s hand sped up and a low whine stuck in Jensen’s throat.

“Gonna come for me? Open up, Jen.”

Jensen clenched his jaw and glared at Jared, but only for a moment before orgasm hit and globs of come painted his lips and eager tongue.

“Fuck!” Jared shouted as his climax hit, and he slammed home, shooting his release deep inside Jensen who continued to milk his cock, the last pearly drops fell into his open mouth. He licked his lips and smiled up at Jared who let his spent cock slip from Jensen’s body. Jared let Jensen’s hips fall to the mattress. He leaned down and captured Jensen’s mouth with his own. The kiss was deep and lazy.

The last chords of Sweetest Taboo faded away, and they were brought back to reality by the sound of a woman’s moan. Jensen blinked as though waking up. Jared sighed and rose. He grabbed Jensen’s jeans and tossed them to him, and then pulled his own on.  They both dressed with quick, silent efficiency and headed for the door.

“Excellent show tonight, boys,” Samantha said from the darkness.

Jared just nodded and followed Jensen out. Jensen picked up the envelope from the hall table, and neither spoke until he’d pulled the Lexus onto the expressway.

“I just want a hot shower and sleep,” Jensen said.

“Yeah?” There was a hint of disappointment in Jared’s voice.

Jensen shrugged. “And a beer.”

“And pizza.”

“Pizza? To go to bed on?”

“I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry?”

Jensen didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes on the road, fingertips drumming on the wheel.

“Okay, maybe not pizza, but listen.” Jared twisted around in the seat. “We’ll take a hot shower. Then, microwave the leftover kebabs and saffron rice, grab a couple beers and take them to bed with us. We can eat and relax ... watch the Late Late Show?”

Jensen smiled and side-eyed Jared who sat expectantly as a dog waiting for a treat. Jensen nodded. “I love you, you know?”

Jared’s long fingers stroked the back of Jensen’s neck. “Yeah, me too.”

 

 

 _Talk to me._


	5. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2/Charles Malik Whitfield. Wincest roleplay is totally a therapy thing that shrinks do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

Dean closed the old copy of Road & Track he’d been reading and tossed on the table. Sam sat beside him scrolling through the browser on his phone. He gave the appearance of relaxation, but Dean could see the slight tremble of the magazine pages. He reached over and rubbed Sam’s knee and was rewarded with a glance and slight smile before Sam returned his attention to a review of a new downtown restaurant.

They were the last two in the doctor’s waiting room. It was nothing unusual – too many, too close together chairs, ancient issues of NewsWeek, House Beautiful, and People, a dusty silk fichus in the corner.

The receptionist’s window slid open and the top of a blond head came into view. “Mr. Winchester, Dr. Whitfield will see you now.”

Sam rose, and Dean followed him into the adjoining office. Whitfield was tall, dark, fit with close cropped hair and a neat goatee. His eyes glinted with intelligence and something else, something that made Dean feel uncomfortable and protective.

“Sam,” Dr. Whitfield nodded to him. “And you must be Dean. It’s good to meet you.” He held out his hand, and Dean shook it. “Please, sit down.” He gestured to the brown leather sofa. He took a seat in an upholstered club chair facing them. “I’m really pleased that you were agreeable to joining us, Dean. I know this is extremely important to your brother.”

“I, yeah, whatever Sam needs, you know,” Dean said. “I just want to help.” He sat with his hands flat on his thighs, face open and interested. Sam’s hands were clenched in his lap, and he stared at a dirty spot on the carpet.

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Dr. Whitfield asked. “Do you hear what Dean is saying? This is what we’ve been talking about, isn’t it? Expectations versus reality. Society’s expectations.

Your father’s expectations. Your expectations. You _brother’s_ expectations. We all have these kinds of pressures, and we all have to learn to balance them with our own desires, our own realities of who and what we are, yes?”

Sam nodded stiffly but didn’t meet the therapist’s eye.

“Dean, and I, are here to help you sort out expectations from reality,” Dr. Whitfield said. “We’ve talked about this until we were both blue in the face. Talking will only get you so far. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you are a man of action. Right?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Dr. Whitfield said, “what we’re going to do here today is confront reality. That can be difficult, painful even, but necessary; so we’re going to do it in a kind of Simon Says game, only this will be Dr. Whitfield Says. All right?”

Sam glanced at Dean. “Yeah, I ... yeah.”

“Dean?” Dr. Whitfield asked.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dean said. “If it’ll help Sammy, I’m game.”

“Good,” Dr. Whitfield said. “It’s a simple. I’ll give directions, and the two of you will follow them. Either of you may stop the game at any time, but following through to end will provide the most benefit. Stopping before you completely confront this will delay healing.”

“I understand,” Sam said.

“So, if we want to stop, what do we say?” Dean asked.

“Just say ‘stop’,” Dr. Whitfield said with a smile.

“Oh, okay,” Dean said.

“All right, great,” Dr. Whitfield said. He set Sam’s file aside. “Let’s get started then, shall we? Sam, I’d like you to stand up and face Dean.”

“Okay,” Sam said. He unfolded his long frame from the sofa and turned to face his brother who looked up with a reassuring expression.

“Now, I’d like you take your shirt off,” said Dr. Whitfield who faced Sam’s back.

Whitfield couldn’t see Sam’s face, and Dean fought to keep his expression neutral when Sam cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked. Sam pulled his shirt tail from his jeans and began unbuttoning it. Dean felt his mouth go dry as more and more golden skin came into view. No matter the job or the client, the sight of all that body never failed to arouse him. Sam pulled the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it aside.

“Good,” Dr. Whitfield said. “Is there anything you want to say to your brother, Dean?”

“You’re beautiful, Sammy.”

Sam’s smirk disappeared, and a slight blush rose in his cheeks.

“Sam, is there something you want to say?” Dr. Whitfield asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Okay. That’s okay. Now, I want you take off your shoes.”

Sam bent over and untied and loosened the laces of his work boots before toeing them off.

“Very good,” Dr. Whitfield said. He sounded slightly breathless. “Now, take your jeans off.”

Sam hesitated before unbuckling his belt and lowering his fly. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and pushed them down around his ankles. He was wearing white lace panties. Dean’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the way his brother’s cock and balls bulged beneath the translucent fabric. He couldn’t pull his eyes away when he saw the way Sam’s dick was thickening and pushing against the cloth. It lay almost horizontal just below the elastic waistband. Dean had to hold himself back from pressing his mouth to the soft material to feel the hard length beneath. The sound of the therapist’s voice yanked Dean out of his daze.

“Is there something you want to say to Dean now, Sam?” Dr. Whitfield asked.

“I, um, are you disgusted, Dean?”

Jensen was pulled by the opposing urges to laugh and to tackle Jared when he looked up into his lust dark eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of embarrassment or shame there. “No,” Dean said. “No, I ... I am definitely not disgusted, Sam. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“How does that make you feel, Sam, to hear Dean say that?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Better,” he said. “It makes me feel better.”

“Good, let’s continue then,” Dr. Whitfield said. “Kneel in front of Dean.”

It was pretty clear that Dean was aroused as Sam was as Sam knelt between his brother’s spread knees. The promise of that lush mouth made precome ooze from Dean’s cock. It was so tight against the seam of his jeans that he shifted uncomfortably.

“Now unbuckle his belt. Good, good, and unzip his fly. Yes. Now, touch him, take it out. Good. He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Tell us how you feel, Sam.”

Sam licked his lips and looked Dean in the eye. “Like it’s what I really am.”

“And Dean?”

“I like the real you, Sammy.”

“You see, Sam,” Dr. Whitfield said. “Your expectation of what your brother would think isn’t the reality, is it? He likes you on your knees like that. He accepts the real you. Show him how that makes you feel. Use your mouth.”

Sam grasped the base of Dean’s dick, leaned forward and gave the head a kitten lick. It twitched his hand, and Dean gasped. Sam gave it another lick, longer and firmer, then another and another. Dean’s hand cupped the back of his brother’s head and urged him gently forward. He imagined growing up, watching  this stupidly gorgeous boy grow into this man. He’s right there on the other side of the car, in a motel room, rarely more than an arm’s length away. Brother or not. How could he not want him? So good and dirty, wrong, twisted love. Sam worked the shaft of Dean’s cock and suckled the head. His lips were red and glistening with precome. Jesus fucking Christ, his mouth was like heaven, so soft and wet and hot. Tension was already pooling in Dean’s groin when a movement behind Sam startled him.

It was Dr. Whitfield kneeling behind Sam and pulling the lace panties off his ass. Dean bit his lip. Sam was looking up questioningly at him. He rubbed his fingertips over Sam’s scalp.

“Remember what we talked about, Sam,” Dr. Whitfield said as he lowered his fly. “This isn’t just about Dean. It’s about your need to be used, to be as you said ‘a whore’.” Dr. Whitfield rolled a condom onto a cock so long and thick, it gave Sam a run for his money. Whitfield lined up and shoved into Sam with one hard thrust. It was enough to push Dean’s cock down Sam’s throat. Dean felt it convulse around him, and anger gripped him. Sam’s hand free hand rubbed his thigh in silent reassurance.

Jensen looked down into Jared’s eyes. He got the message. “Jesus, Sam,” he murmured.

Dr. Whitfield set up a bruising pace, pounding into Sam’s ass hard enough to push him down on Dean’s cock with each thrust of his hips. Sam’s eyes were watering and he gagged periodically, but he moaned and tipped his ass up to encourage the therapist to use him.

“This is your reality, Sam,” Dr. Whitfield growled. “This is what you said you wanted. Isn’t it? To get used on your knees, like it’s some kind of penance for sucking off your big brother. It’s _not_ what you want, is it Sam? You want him fucking you, filling you with a load ...”

Dean’s hips jerked as his orgasm hit. Sam’s eyes went wide as Dean shot down his throat. Then, his eyes fell shut, sucking and swallowing, milking every drop from Dean’s cock. Dean’s  hands cradled Sam’s head, stroked his sweat damp hair.

Whitfield pulled his cock from Sam’s hole and stripped the condom from it. With a look of complete contempt, he jerked it half a dozen times before splattering Sam’s ass and lower back with jets of come. He sat back on his heels and dropped his head as he caught his breath. Without a word he rose and went into the small adjoining restroom.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

Jensen grabbed a handful of tissues from the dispenser on the table and started to wipe Sam’s back.

“I said, I’m fine,” he stood and grabbed his clothes. When Whitfield emerged from the bathroom, Jared went in.

Dean was already zipped up, and he glared at Whitfield.

“I’m afraid your brother didn’t learn what he thought he would,” Whitfield said. He sat down behind his desk and leaned back.

Jensen fought down a swell of anger and glanced at the bathroom door. “You can drop the role-playing; the game’s over.”

Whitfield’s eyebrows rose. “You sound angry.”

“Yeah, sometimes I don’t love my job,” Jensen said. “Just pay up, so we can get out of here.”

Whitfield took an envelope from the drawer of his desk, slid across the polished surface to Jensen, but kept his hand on it. “What was it that bothered you?” Whitfield asked.

Jensen huffed. “Honestly? You. You bothered me.” He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. “You were too rough, and I saw ... I saw what you think.”

Whitfield let go of the envelope and leaned back. “It was role-playing.”

“No.” Jensen shook his head. “That wasn’t part of the scenario, you son of a bitch.”

Whitfield’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You love him.”

“What I feel for him is none of your fucking business,” Jensen said. Whitfield’s smile widened. “Is that what this was about?” Jensen demanded. “It was some kind of sick game?”

Whitfield shrugged. “It didn’t start out that way, but the two of you ...” He waved his hand toward the sofa. “It’s fascinating that you do this, feeling the way you do about each other. You let other people touch him like that.”

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Jensen growled. He heard the bathroom door open and snatched the envelope off the desk before heading toward the door. “Come on,” he said and held the door open for Jared who glanced at Whitfield. “Let’s go,” Jensen demanded.

Jared preceded him into the outer office and turned. “What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving,” Jensen said as he headed for the other door. He opened it and walked into the hall without waiting for Jared to follow. Jared caught up with him at the elevator where Jensen was jabbing the down button.

“Hey!” Jared grabbed his arm. “What happened in there?”

“He hurt you.”

Jared’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

Jensen focused on the elevator door, jaw clenched till his teeth hurt.

“Hey, come on. He got a little rough, but nothing we haven’t encountered before,” Jared said as though soothing a hurt child.

Jensen looked at Jared with stormy eyes. “You didn’t see his face. He ...”

“What?”

The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened. Two young women, a blonde and a brunette, stood inside to the left. Jensen shook his head. “I hate shrinks,” he said. “That’s all.” He stepped inside.

The doors closed and Jared leaned against the wall. “We don’t have to go back,” he said. “I mean, he pays well, but I didn’t even get off.”

Jensen saw the brunette frown, and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you when we get home, baby.” The girl’s eyes widened then.

Jared turned toward him. “Yeah?” He dropped his voice to almost a whisper. “With your pretty mouth?”

The girl had her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling out loud, and she was nudging her friend with her elbow. Jensen could tell Jared knew it by the wicked gleam in his eyes. Jensen leaned in, brushed their lips together, and Jensen’s tongue flicked out, over Jared’s lips.

“I can taste me on your mouth,” he said.

“Jesus,” Jared said.

“Wanna taste you in mine,” Jensen murmured.

“Stop it,” Jared hissed before crushing their mouths together.

The elevator bell dinged, but they just kept kissing.

 

 _Talk to me._


	6. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2/Matt Cohen. Dom Jensen breeds his puppies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

She wasn’t a queen. She was an empress. Everything from the way she held her head to the tone of her voice spoke of command and privilege. No one would have known that thirty odd years ago she’d walked the same streets Jared and Jensen had just eight years earlier. Only long-time visitors would know that she was their way off those streets.

She sat in a large, ornate chair beside the fireplace in the parlor where she held court night after night. Her clients were wealthy and well-behaved. They paid a premium for the young men and women she took, protected and trained and kept healthy. Jared and Jensen hadn’t lived there in years, but they still did contract work of a kind her live-in employees didn’t provide.

Jensen crossed the plush blue carpet to her chair. Her smile was bright and fond as she took his hand in both of hers and turned her cheek up for a kiss. She smelled of Shalimar and the short cheroots she smoked in the early hours of the morning while going over the night’s receipts.

“My darlings,” she said. She didn’t release Jensen’s hand, which forced him to stand in an awkward stoop. She looked from one to the other and motioned Jared forward with her free hand. “You’re too thin. You need to eat better. You must join me for dinner soon.”

Jensen nodded. “We will. You set the date.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you always say, Pretty, but then you’re never free. You work too hard.”

“Make it a Sunday night. We don’t work on Sundays,” he said.

Her laugh was warm. “How very Christian of you,” she replied and released his hand. She turned her full attention on Jared and took his hand as he leaned down to kiss her. “My sweet boy,” she said and patted his hand. “I swear you’re still growing.”

Jared laughed. “I don’t think so, M’Lo,” he said. She was known by many names – Madame Devine, Ms. D, Mama Loretta – but the ones who knew her best, the older kids, the long-time employees called her the endearment that held both affection and respect. Those who’d been around the longest had seen her comfort damaged kids and throw abusive johns down a flight of stairs.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” she said. All evidence of friendly chat was dropped for brusqueness. “You have a client waiting, and I’ll expect you here for dinner tomorrow, 8 o’clock sharp.”

Jared and Jensen glanced at one another and nodded. “We’ll mark our calendar,” Jensen said.

“Jesus, she is still a ball buster,” Jared whispered as they exited the room.

“And my hearing is as sharp as ever, boy,” Loretta called out from behind them.

Jensen snorted in amusement, and Jared punched him in the shoulder as they headed down the hallway to the basement door.

“Like it doesn’t make your balls try to crawl up into your stomach when she uses that tone,” Jared said as they made their way down the stairs.

“She used to do this kind of dom stuff herself, you know?” Jensen said.

“Trained you herself, did she?” Jared teased.

“She’s gave me a few pointers back in the day,” Jensen replied.

They went into a dressing room where they stripped off their street clothes. Jensen put on black leather pants and vest and tall black boots. His outfit wasn’t elaborate. It didn’t need to be. Jared had put knee pads and a wide leather collar on, and Jensen helped him into puppy paw mitts that laced up to the elbow. He added a hooded mask with pointed ears and muzzle. Jensen hooked a chain leash to the collar, and Jared got on his hands and knees.

“You know you look kind of hot that way,” Jensen teased as he pulled on leather gloves.

“Fuck you, Jen,” was the muffled reply.

“Bad dog,” Jensen scolded. “I didn’t tell you to speak.”

Jared glared through the eye holes of the mask. “Save it for the client.”

Jensen chuckled, “Just getting into character, baby.”

“Puppy,” Jared corrected.

“Right, let’s do this,” Jensen said and led his pet into the adjoining room.

Kneeling on the floor was a young man with dark hair. He wore leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists and a leather collar much like Pet’s, but his had a short leather lead attached. He was smaller than either of them but lean and muscular. Jensen knew that body. He knew the things that made it gasp and shudder with pleasure and with pain. He knew its endurance, the moment it would break. He knew how to apply pressure and when to withhold touch. The man inside it, he knew him too in a disturbingly intimate way.

Master released the leash from his pet’s collar. The animal moved forward, circled the man, nudged and nosed at his ribs, his throat, his ass. He was so much larger and more powerful than the kneeling man who tried to hold his submissive posture and silence.

Master didn’t say a word as he watched the man’s erection grow. The guy was wound really tight tonight, and Master didn’t examine the sense of anticipation he felt.

“Master, I ...”

“Shut up,” the dom commanded. “I didn’t tell you to speak. You know the rules, and you’re so pathetic you can’t carry out even the most basic. You disgust me.”

The slave lowered his head farther, curling in on himself as Pet stuck his muzzle against slave’s ear and growled. The slave turned his head slightly away.

“Don’t you turn away from him,” Master said. “Turning from Pet is turning from me. You are at the bottom of this pack. Don’t you ever forget it.” Pet’s hips rolled slightly in a parody of fucking that pleased Master so much he wanted to scratch the damned dog behind the ears. The affect it had on the slave was perfect. His cock drooled precome, and he blushed to the tips of his ears.

“Bring him here, Pet,” Master said.

Pet leaned down and grasped the short lead in his teeth. He pulled the slave forward till he knelt at Master’s feet. Master squatted down and snapped a cockring around the base of the slave’s genitals. “You are a worthless, undeserving slave. You aren’t good enough for Pet,” Master whispered. “You’ll never be good enough for me. You don’t have the self-control or the will. Do you?”

“Please, Master,” the slave pleaded. “Let me try. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Clean my boots,” Master said and rose to his feet.

The slave didn’t hesitate to lean down and lick a stripe over the toe of Master’s left boot. He continued to thoroughly lick down over the edges and along the side, up around the laces running up the calf.

“That’s enough,” Master barked. The slave flinched in response. “Clean the other.”

The slave continued as he had the other while Pet crowded and snuffled at him. The slave’s breath rasped through his nose.

“Stop,” Master ordered. He squatted down and pointed at the toe of the left boot. “Do you see that? That dry spot? You can’t do the simplest things.” He sounded so disappointed. His hand shot out and grabbed the collar. He forced the slave to look at him. “You must be punished. You know that, right?”

“Yes, yes, Master,” the slave’s voice quavered.

Master rose and walked to a work bench where he picked up a flogger. “Head down, ass up, slave.”

Pet backed off as the slave assumed the position. Master slowly circled the slave, boot heels clicking on the concrete floor. He held the handle of the flogger in his right hand and let the strands of it trail through the other. They were narrow and knotted at the ends. He imagined the stripes and welts they’d leave on the milky skin of the slave’s buttocks.

“How many lashes do you deserve for your poor service to me, slave?” he asked.

“As many as Master wishes,” the slave answered.

“I think ...” Master drew his arm back and brought the flogger down across the slave’s ass with a satisfying crack. “That will depend on how pretty you cry and scream for me.”

The slave’s body had jerked forward at the unexpected strike. “One,” he gasped.

“One,” Master repeated with a chuckle. “Good boy.” He glanced over at Pet who was kneeling patiently with his cock hanging hard between his legs and a precome pooling beneath it.

“Good start,” Master said and brought the flogger down again and again. Each time the slave counted out the number of lashes as his ass and thighs were crisscrossed with red stripes. At twenty-two, Master began to feel the burn in his muscles, and the slave was openly crying. Master moved to the left and brought the flogger down in a back-handed motion. The slave cried out as the leather caught previous welts at a new angle. The flogger fell again catching the swell of flesh along the crease of the slave’s ass.

“Ahh, please,” he begged.

“Please, what? More? Harder?” Master asked.

The slave sobbed. “Please ... if you wish, Master. I serve you.”

Master smiled and went down on one knee beside the slave. He ran a gloved hand through the slave’s sweaty hair. “I have an idea of how you can serve me. You wish that don’t you? You want to please me.”

“Yes, yes, Master,” the slave answered with his forehead pressed to the concrete. “I want to serve you.”

“All right,” he said as he reached between the slave’s legs and released the cock ring. “You will service my pet, be his bitch, and if you don’t come while he fucks you, I’ll let you suck me off.” He rose to his feet. “Get up on your hands.” He pulled the slave’s crease open to make sure his hole was shiny with lube and properly prepped. He motioned Pet forward and rolled a condom on the dog’s cock. Pet positioned himself between the slave’s spread legs and grabbed at his waist with his paws. Master helped line up the head of the animal’s cock with the slave’s hole. Their eyes met for a moment before Master gave a slight nod and dog shoved its cock into the slave fast and hard.

The slave braced his hands against the floor and cried out at the brutal thrusts that didn’t let up. There was no consideration for the bitch’s pleasure or pain. The animal followed the instinct to breed, pounding repeatedly into the tender flesh. The slave’s breath was heaving in his chest, and his face was wet with tears and snot, but soon his whimpers turned to bit-back moans. Pet’s movements faltered, and he let out a whine as he pushed his hips tight to the slave’s ass.

“Such a good bitch,” Master said, and the slave’s body convulsed at the words. His cock jerked beneath him, and his release splattered over the floor. “Sometimes I think you like being Pet’s bitch more than you want to serve me.”

“I ...” The slave tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m weak, and Pet is strong.”

“Yes,” Master said with a nod. He caught Pet’s eye and stepped forward as the dog withdrew and sat back on his heels. Master took the lead and tugged on it. “On your feet, slave.”

The slave slowly rose but didn’t raise his head. His knees and the heels of his hands were scraped from the rough concrete. He was covered in sweat and that had to sting the lashes on his ass and legs.

“Come,” Master said and led him to a floor drain in the corner. “Stay.” He picked up a hose with a sprayer attachment and squeezed the handle. The slaved flinched at the first burst of cold water. Master adjusted the stream of water to a gentle spray and ran it over the slave’s body from head to foot. “Turn around.” He trained the spray over the slave’s dark hair and over his muscled shoulders. The slave cried out when the water hit the welts on his ass. Master made the spray even finer as he directed it along the crack of his ass and down his legs.

Master shut the water off and turned to the bench where he picked up a fluffy towel. When he looked back, the slave had both hands on the wall and his shoulders shook with sobs. Master wrapped the towel around him.

“Hey, come here,” he said. He turned the slave around and looked down into gray eyes that begged forgiveness. He pulled the slave into his arms and the slave sobbed against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“I know,” he said. “You did your best. That’s all I ask.”

“Thank you, Master. I’ll do better.”

“I know you will.” Master led the slave to a cot against the wall and made him lie down. He covered him with a soft blanket. The slave curled on his side and closed his eyes. Master rubbed his back until his breathing became deep and even.

When Master stood, Pet rose from where he’d been kneeling and stretched. He followed Master back into the dressing room.

Jensen pulled the gauntlets off and tossed them aside. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck.

“Tired?” Jared asked.

“Yeah,” he answered as he unbuckled the hood and pulled it off over Jared’s head.

“I’ll drive home,” Jared said. He held his hands out, and Jensen began unlacing the mitts. “You think he’ll ever have the discipline to get to blow you?”

Jensen glanced up and then back at his task. “No, he has to fail, so he can apologize and try again next time,” Jensen said. He pulled the right mitt off and smirked. “Besides, your cock is too much for him.”

“Yeah?” Jared chuckled.

Jensen smiled. “When have you ever failed to get anyone off?”

Jared laughed. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a perfect record.”

“You do with me,” Jensen said. He pulled the other mitt off and tossed it on the counter. Jared’s hand curved around the back of his neck and rubbed the fatigued muscles. Jensen leaned against his chest and closed his eyes.

“That was quite a work out you got in,” Jared said. “Sore?”

“Nah,” Jensen said.

“You’re gonna be,” Jared said. “You need a hot shower and a massage.”

Jensen didn’t move for a moment, he relaxed into the warmth and strength of Jared’s body. He felt empty and peaceful and light. Jared kissed his temple.

“Hey, Jen,” he whispered. “If you want we could grab a shower and an empty room here tonight.”

Jensen took a deep breath. He’d awakened hundreds of times in this house, limbs tangled with Jared’s in the too small bed, caring only that Jared was with him. He let the breath out and leaned back with a smile. “No, I’d rather wake up in our bed.”

“Yeah,” Jared agreed. “Let’s go home.”

  


_Talk to me._


	7. Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J2, Jared and Jensen and the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

Jensen stretched and rubbed his bleary eyes in response to the alarm. He fumbled for his phone and clicked it on. The screen read 9:30, Sunday, May 19. He thumbed the alarm off.

Sunday.

He turned his head. Jared lay sprawled across the bed, crowding his half out of the middle as always. They’d met on a Sunday. More than eight years ago, he’d met this man, a boy then.

He’d been nearly Jensen’s height but lanky with a shaggy brown hair that fell over wary eyes. Jensen had understood that look. He knew what it was to be new to the streets, to have experienced enough to feel threatened but still hopeful and a little innocent. He’d lost that himself. He wore cynicism and casual belligerence like armor.

He’d seen the kid a couple of times hunched in doorways for shelter against the spring rain or slouched against a wall in a tank top as though advertising something he had no intention of selling. He hadn’t thought much of him. Newbies came and went – got swept up by pimps or street preachers, sent to jail or sent home. He didn’t get involved or attached. He had enough just taking care of himself.

But when he saw two old queens pushing the kid against a brick wall, something made him cross the street. Maybe it was the memory of sharp fingernails biting into his skin, cruel words, the threat of switchblade; maybe it was the hangover from cheap rum that had his head pounding.

 

_“Hey!” he shouted. He knew the queens – old, worn out meth heads that preyed on the kids who were too new and too scared to defend themselves. “Hey, bitch! You kick puppies in your spare time too?” He shoved the one with emerald eye-shadow away from the boy. She had bad teeth and sagging skin._

_“Fuck off, Jenny Boy,” she said in a voice that sounded more tired than threatening. “Mind your own or I’ll cut ‘em off.”_

_Jensen did the opposite. He got in her face and even in four-inch heels, she was no taller than him. “Leave the kid alone. He doesn’t have any money.”_

_“This is our corner,” the blue haired one whined._

_“This is my corner,” Jensen said. “You want to fight me for it?”_

_The two queens exchanged glances and started to walk away. “You better watch your back, Jenny Boy. You got more enemies than friends.”_

_Jensen sighed. That was undoubtedly true._

_“Thanks,” the kid said and started to slink away._

_“Hey, where are you going?” Jensen asked._

_The kid looked back uncertainly. “You said this was your corner.”_

_Jensen shrugged. “You can work this corner if you want, baby.”_

_Fox-tilted eyes met his through shaggy bangs. “I ... my name’s Jared.”_

_“So work this corner if you want, Jared. It’s my day off,” Jensen said and walked away_.

 

Jared snuffled and rolled on his side toward Jensen. His long hair fell across his cheek, and Jensen brushed it back, tucked it behind his ear. His hand rose as though shooing a fly away and bumped into Jensen’s. His eyes blinked opened. A slight smile curled his lips.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Jensen replied.

“Time is it?”

“Not even ten,” Jensen said.

They often worked late and rarely rose before noon. Sunday was their day off, but they’d need to get up and showered, so they could get to the soup kitchen and help out.

“Why so early?”

“It’s Sunday,” Jensen said.

Jared’s expression grew soft.

“What?”

“I fell in love with you on a Sunday,” Jared said.

“Fell in love ...”

“My white knight.”

Jensen smiled and shook his head. “You gave your heart too cheaply, baby.”

The endearment usually broke the mood and made Jared laugh, but he didn’t. His face grew even more serious. “No, Jen, I knew.”

 

_Ignoring the uneasiness that caused his stomach to churn and the hair to stand up on his neck was more than reckless. It was foolish, and Jensen knew it. But he needed money for rent on his squalid room. He wouldn’t go back to living under the bridge or in the abandoned hotel._

_He preceded the guy into the alley and stepped behind a pile of pallets and packing crates before turning. The guy was older with a grizzled beard, jeans and trucker cap. He wasn’t particularly big, but there was something mean in his eye and the way he moved._

_“So what’ll it be?” Jensen said._

_“Just drop ‘em and bend over that crate there,” the guy said._

_Jensen swallowed the lump in his throat. “You got a condom?”_

_“Don’t need no rubber to fuck a whore,” the guy said._

_Adrenaline flooded Jensen’s system. “You need one if you think you’re gonna fuck me,” he said with more bravado than he felt._

_The guy moved faster than Jensen could have imagined and struck him across the face. Jensen stumbled backward. The man’s hand wrapped around his throat and drove him back against the wall, which met his head with stunning crack. Jensen saw blackness at the edges of his vision, dancing motes of light._

_“You listen to me you little slut,” the guy growled. “You do what I say or I’ll beat your pretty face in and then fuck your dead ass.”_

_Jensen’s heart slammed against his ribs, and he gasped under the choking hand. “No ... no!” He tried to struggle. He wasn’t afraid to die. He didn’t care, but he wouldn’t give the sick fuck the satisfaction of fucking him dead or alive. Maybe if he pretended to cooperate ..._

_There was a movement behind the guy and a dull, hollow ringing sound. The man’s eyes rolled up in his head, his grip loosened, and he fell at Jensen’s feet; behind him stood Jared with a length of pipe in his hand. He looked terrified, and the pipe clanged to the ground. Jensen hadn’t thought a thing about the kid in the two days since they’d met, hadn’t seen him on the street, but here he was bashing some asshole’s head in. Jensen’s laugh bordered on hysteria as he stumbled over the body of his assailant and grabbed Jared’s hand._

_“Come on!” He yanked Jared into motion and took off running deeper into the alley with Jared at his heels. He took a left turn when the alley made a T and then cut right between two buildings. They crossed a narrow one way street, up another alley, and ducked into a passage barely wider than their shoulders. They emerged into sunlight surrounded by the high walls of abandoned tenements. Blind windows stared down at them, and dilapidated stairwells clung to the brick walls. But in the open square of sunlight grew flowers – weeds by suburban standards, but blooms of white, yellow and cornflower blue._

_Jared’s smile was as bright as the sun in response to Jensen’s laughter. Jensen pushed him against the warm brick and kissed him. He opened eagerly to Jensen’s tongue, suckled it like candy. His hair was soft in Jensen’s hands, his body hard and warm, and when Jensen pressed a kiss to his throat, Jared’s pulse beat strong against his lips._

_Jared’s fingers slipped through the soft brush of hair at the back of Jensen’s neck, up the nape, and Jensen flinched at the pain. “Hey,” Jared said, “are you okay?”_

_“Yeah,” Jensen said drawing back._

_“No, Jeez, you’re bleeding,” Jared said._

_Jensen felt the back of his head where it hit the brick wall. A bump was forming, and his fingers came away with a smear of blood. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”_

_Jared didn’t look convinced. “You should have it looked at.”_

_“What? At the ER? Nah.” He could see that Jared wasn’t going to let it drop. “Hey, are you hungry? I’m starving, and I bet you are too.”_

_“I, yeah,” Jared admitted. “I am.”_

_Jensen nodded and pulled him away from the wall. “When was the last time you ate?”_

_Jared shrugged. “Yesterday morning, I guess,” Jared said._

_“Come on,” Jensen said. “We’ll go get a sandwich from the hippies.”_

_“The hippies?”_

_Jensen grinned. “You don’t know about them? Yeah, these hippies, Misha and Vickie, they hand out sandwiches from their van every evening. They should be down on Fifth Street about this time.”_

_“No kidding?”_

_“No kidding. They do it every day after work,” Jensen said. “Stick with me, baby.”_

_Jared pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Jensen. “I’m not a baby.”_

_“No, right, you’re what? Sixteen?”_

_“I, yeah, sixteen,” Jared admitted._

_“You’re a baby, a newbie. Been there, believe me.”_

_The lime-green VW van was pulled to the curb in front of a closed currency exchange. A dark haired man with bright blue eyes leaned out the side window._

_“Gather round, friends and neighbors, we have fair fare for the famished,” he called._

_Jensen and Jared hung back behind two girls who looked as though they hadn’t eaten or slept in a week._

_“Ladies.” He handed them sandwiches wrapped in plastic. “We have apples today. How about apples?” The girls replied hushed tones, and he handed them each a large glossy piece of fruit with a smile. As they turned away, his smile faded and his brows drew together. Then he spotted Jensen, and his smile returned. “Ah, Green-eyes. Who’s your new friend?”_

_“Jared,” Jensen said._

_“Stretch, well met, my friend. I’m Misha. That’s Vickie back there wrapping tonight’s scrumptious meal,” Misha said._

_“What kind?” Jensen said._

_“Ah! You’re in luck! We have a full menu of sandwiches and apples,” Misha said._

_“What kind of sandwiches?” Jensen asked._

_“Oh, I see. You want to get the ingredient list because you are a discerning customer. I know this about you, Green-eyes,” Misha deadpanned. “We have ham and cheese.”_

_“Meat on the cheese sandwiches. That’s thinking outside the box, Mish,” Jensen said._

_“Indeed, we’ve been thinking all around the perimeter of the box,” he said. He handed two plastic wrapped sandwiches out the window, and Jensen gave one to Jared. Misha leaned his elbows on the edge of the window with an apple in each hand. “Keeps the physician at a distance.”_

_They each took an apple and said, thanks._

_Misha dropped the banter then. “Need some condoms?” he asked._

_“Always,” Jensen said. He switched the apple to the hand holding the sandwich and took a handful of foil packets._

_“You guys be careful out there,” Misha said._

_“You know me,” Jensen grinned as he walked away._

_“Yeah, I do,” Misha said without a hint of humor._

_The boys ate their sandwiches in silence as they walked down the street. Jensen realized that Jared was halfway through his apple before he’d started his own. He took a bite. It was crisp and juicy. He’d never realized in his old life how amazing apples were._

_“Hey, do you have a place to stay?” he asked. The words were out before he’d even thought about asking._

_Jared nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve been crashing at the Arrington Hotel.”_

_The apple turned to a stone in Jensen’s throat. He swallowed with effort. He half turned and grabbed Jared’s arm. “You can’t stay there, man. It’s dangerous.”_

_“It’s not that bad,” Jared said. “There’s this place ...”_

_“No! There’s nowhere safe there,” Jensen said. “You can ... you can stay at my place tonight. We’ll find you somewhere else, okay?”_

_They’d stopped on the sidewalk, Jensen’s fingers digging into Jared’s arm, and Jared peering through his bangs at Jensen, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He nodded. “Okay,” Jared said._

_“All right,” Jensen said. He let go of Jared’s arm and began walking again. “It’s not much, my place.” He shrugged. “In fact, it’s kind of a shithole.” They made a left at the corner, and Jensen trotted up the steps to a crumbling brownstone. Jared followed him into a dingy vestibule that smelled of urine and trash and up two flights of stairs._

_“It’s small and the heating is for shit but the door has good locks,” Jensen said. The narrow hallway was lit only by a dirty window at one end. Jensen stopped at the door closest to it and unlocked two deadbolts. He led Jared inside, closed the door, and turned the top deadbolt, the other required the key to lock. He turned the lock on the doorknob and pushed home a slide bolt as well._

_Jensen didn’t meet Jared’s eye when he saw him watching. He took a deep breath and gestured to the room. “Mi casa ...” he said._

_There wasn’t much to see. A full size mattress lay on the floor beneath two drafty double-hung windows, but the thin blanket and sheet were pulled up neatly beneath the pillows. There was a counter with a cabinet and tiny refrigerator beneath it in the corner. The two shelves above it contained some mismatched mugs, plates and bowls, a tumbler held cutlery, and half a dozen books and a pile of magazines were on the top shelf._

_A low dresser without drawer handles sat beside the bathroom doorway. Jared could see a corner sink, toilet, and what had to be the smallest claw-foot tub in the world._   
_“Not much privacy,” Jensen said. “No door. Never needed one before.”_

_Jared stood halfway between the bed and the bathroom looking like he didn’t know what to do or say. Jensen felt heat rise in his cheeks and turned away._

_“You want a coke?” he asked as he bent and pulled the door of the small refrigerator open._

_“Yeah, sure,” Jared said._

_“Take your jacket off, man,” Jensen said. He took two cans of Big K cola and a pint of rum from the refrigerator. He toed his shoes off and plopped down on the bed._

_Jared sat on the edge of the mattress and took the offered soda. He popped the top and took a sip. Jensen pushed himself back to lean against the wall before opening his soda and taking a couple drinks. He held the can between his bent knees and poured some rum into the can._

_“You want some?” he smirked. “You are 21, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Jared smiled. “Absolutely.” He took the bottle, kicked his shoes off, and sat beside Jensen. “So how old are you?”_

_“Old,” Jensen said, feeling far older than 18. “How long have you been here?” He figured Jared would understand what he meant._

_“Three weeks,” Jared mumbled._

_Jensen knew it was the longest three weeks of Jared’s life. He sighed. “And you’ve done stuff, work, right?”_

_Jared nodded. His knees were pulled up almost to his chest, his head hung down, hair hiding his face. “Just blowjobs.”_

_“You could still go home, you know?” Jensen said._

_Jared didn’t say anything. He shook his head._

_“Listen to me, man. Whatever you’ve done, it’s not as bad as ... Facing your parents would not be as bad as what’s ahead here. Believe me,” Jensen said._

_They sat in silence a moment. “How long have you been here?” Jared asked as he toyed with the pop-top of his soda can._

_“Two years.”_

_Jared looked up. “If you could go back to the beginning, when you first got here, and change everything, if you had the choice, would you go home?” His eyes were shiny and his lip trembled._

_Jensen wanted to say ‘yes’ but he shook his head. “No.”_

_“Me neither.”_

_Jensen nodded. “Listen, Jared, you can stay here. If you want.” He didn’t know why he was offering. He didn’t need to be responsible for this kid. He didn’t want to be. He’d done well in not making friends. This was stupid, but the kid looked so relieved._

_“Yeah?” Jared blinked and sniffed._

_Jensen nodded. “There isn’t much room, but you know ...”_

_Suddenly, Jared’s hand was on Jensen’s cheek and his lips against Jensen’s. They were so soft, insistent. Jensen let it happen. He cupped the back of Jared’s head, tangling his fingers in the long locks, tipping Jared’s head to slot their mouths together. It was easy and good._

_He drew away. “Jared, you don’t have to do this.”_

_“No, but I want to. I mean, if you do.”_

 

Jensen leaned forward and kissed Jared, just a soft press of lips. “We have time before we have to get up, baby.”

Jared rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh at the endearment, but he returned the kiss. He lowered his head and licked over a dusky nipple. Jensen shuddered. They were so sensitive he hated for anyone else to touch them, but Jared knew to start with soft licks and gentle lips before brushes of fingers, firm tugs and twists that had Jensen gasping and arching into the touch.

Their cocks were hard, leaking when Jensen rolled Jared onto his stomach, and Jared rose to his knees. Jensen’s hands were like hot brands on his ass cheeks as he pulled the crease open with his thumbs.

“God, you’ve got a beautiful ass,” Jensen said. He leaned in and teased the puckered edge of Jared’s hole with the tip of his tongue. He chuckled low and dirty. “It’s winking at me.

Jared muffled his laughter with the pillow. “Quit screwing around and fuck me.”

“Oh no, not so quick,” Jensen said. He laved Jared’s perineum and down over his sac, and Jared bit his lip as Jensen’s tongue licked back along his crack, circled the sensitive rim of his anus. His breathing quickened as the tip of Jensen’s tongue pushed into him over and over, a little deeper each time. Spit trickled down over his balls. When a thick finger slid into him, a low hum of satisfaction vibrated in his throat.

The tongue withdrew and another finger pushed in alongside the first. He didn’t need to be worked open. He could take Jensen’s cock with a slick of precome and barely a wince at any time, but every ridge and crease of Jensen’s fingers was lighting up the nerves inside him. Three fingers plunged into him. He moaned and tipped his hips up.

“You like that, baby?”

“Ah, mmm ...”

“What? What was that?” Jensen asked. Jared could hear the smile in his voice. “You want more?”

“Yeah, your cock,” he moaned.

The fingers slipped from his hole and a hand came down on each side of his head as Jensen leaned over him and pressed his lips to Jared’s ear. “You want me to fuck you? Stretch you and pound you and fill you with come?”

“You fucking know I do,” Jared growled.

Jensen’s breath chuffed against his skin when he laughed. “Okay, roll over.” He slapped Jared on the ass as he sat back on his heels. “I want to see you.”

Jared’s thighs were trembling as he rolled onto his back and raised his long legs. Jensen lifted Jared’s hips and pushed his knees under them. He slicked precome along the length of his cock and pressed the head to Jared’s hole. Jensen looked down at him as he had once looked at a boy.

 

_“Please,” Jared said. “I want you to.”_

_They’d kissed and rolled on the mattress for twenty minutes, losing items of clothing until they were both naked, and hard, and needy._

_“I’ll suck you off,” Jensen said._

_“No. It’s gonna happen. I want it to be you,” Jared said._

_Jensen understood the logic of it. He couldn’t deny it but nodded with reluctance. He grabbed the bottle of lube he used to prep before he went to work and coated his fingers. “Have you, um, have you ...”_

_Jared blushed and lowered his eyes. “Yeah, some.”_

_Jensen ran the tip of his finger along the furled edge of Jared’s anus. It twitched at his touch, and Jensen’s cock grew harder, drooled in response. Jared’s dick lay flushed and leaking a puddle onto his belly. The length of it jerked as Jensen pushed his finger past the outer ring of muscle._

_“Oh,” Jared sighed. He pushed his head back into the pillows as it moved deeper. “Mmm.”_

_Jensen’s finger stopped moving. “You okay?” he asked._

_“Yeah, yeah,” Jared panted. “Don’t stop.”_

_Jensen smiled. “Okay.” He continued fucking the single digit in and out of the boy until the muscles relaxed around him. “I’m gonna do another okay?” When he got a slight nod out of Jared, he slipped a second in; after a few minutes he added a third, twisting and scissoring, until Jared was fisting the sheets and his breaths came in gasps._

_“Please,” Jared moaned._

_Still, Jensen hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said._

_Jared looked him in the eye. “No one else will do this,” he said._

_Jensen knew it was true. A john wouldn’t care if the kid was in pain. Some went out of their way to make it hurt._

_“You should roll over. It will hurt less,” Jensen said._

_Jared shook his head. “No, I want to see you.”_

_Jensen nodded. He tore open a condom wrapper and rolled it on. It was weird somehow. He went through the things like candy but never used them on himself. He coated it with more lube and lined the head up with Jared’s tight little hole._

_“Okay, just take a deep breath and let it out,” Jensen said. “Good. Try to relax.” He pressed forward and watched as Jared’s rim stretched around the crown. It was so tight, almost too much, and he squeezed the base of his cock to help stave off orgasm. He took a deep breath and pushed farther in, but a whimper from Jared stopped him._

_He looked up at Jared’s pained expression. “I can’t do this,” Jensen said. Jared’s cock had gone limp, and Jensen’s erection was flagging too._

_Jared grabbed his arms as he started to move away. “No! Just give me a second. It’s okay. Please.”_

_Jensen didn’t move while Jared took a couple deep breaths. “Okay, go ahead.”_

_Jensen stroked the shaft to get harder and didn’t take his eyes off Jared’s face as he moved forward. He groaned at the overwhelming heat and crush of soft flesh. He bottomed out, hips flush with Jared’s ass. His gaze met Jared’s multi-hued eyes, pupils blown. He’d trusted Jensen to bring him here, have him in his bed and take care of him, and Jensen felt the weight of the moment. He was taking this boy’s virginity. Initiating him into the life._

_“Jared.”_

_The ripple of muscle around his dick had it rock hard again, and Jared dug his heels into Jensen’s lower back and wiggled. “Fuck me. Come on.”_

_The long drag back got only a flutter of lashes from Jared, so Jensen pushed back in more quickly._

_“Yeah,” Jared moaned. “Yeah.”_

_Jensen moved with more assurance, watching as Jared’s erection returned. Tension wound like a spring in Jensen’s groin as he watched Jared grasp his cock and begin stripping it. Jensen’s balls felt heavy and tight, and his orgasm blindsided him, bowing him forward, pressed deep inside Jared’s channel, he filled the condom as wave after wave of pleasure washed through him._

 

Jensen’s body bowed forward as his release flooded Jared’s belly. They tried to be careful with clients, but there was never latex between them, not for years. It was a risk they accepted as part of their life.

Jensen looked up the long line of Jared’s body – flushed cock still twitching in aftershocks, golden skin splattered with a glaze of come – to pink lips parted on heavy breaths. The hazel eyes that gazed up at Jensen hadn’t changed. They were still filled with trust and want and what he now knew had always been love.

Jensen let his softening cock slip from Jared’s body and leaned down. He gave Jared a wicked smile before lapping at the come on his skin. Jared grinned. “Jesus, you’re filthy.”  
Jensen chuckled and licked a path to Jared’s mouth. He sealed their mouths together, savoring the wet slide of lips and tongues. Jared’s hands traced the ridges of his ribs and spine, but when Jared’s thumbs found the cut of his hips and tried to pull him down onto his body, Jensen broke the kiss. Jared’s brows knitted at Jensen’s expression.

“I didn’t fall in love with you until Tuesday,” Jensen said. “And it isn’t because you saved my life.”

“No?”

“No, it’s because you gave me something to live for.”

“For us,” Jared said.

Jensen had the urge to say, _No, for you_ , but he nodded. “Yeah, for us.”

 

_Talk to me._   



	8. Sunday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The present is still entwined with the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

Misha’s eyebrows rose, and he peered at his watch when Jared and Jensen entered the industrial kitchen.

“I know, I know,” Jensen said. He set two cases of Coca-Cola on the counter. Jared set another two cases of Mountain Dew beside them. They always brought name brand because they knew what it meant to the kids to get the real thing, to think that others thought they worth it.

“Have a nice lie in, did you?” Misha asked.

“Something like that,” Jared grinned.

Misha rolled his eyes. “As professionals, you’d think you’d know how to better schedule these things,” he said.

“It wasn’t professional,” Jensen said as he pulled on a pair of food service gloves.

Misha blinked thoughtfully at them and went back to his task. “Much as I enjoy chatting about your no doubt phenomenal sex life, we have hungry mouths to feed,” Misha said. He picked up a warming pan of mashed potatoes and handed it Jared. “Grab the green beans,” he told Jensen. “We’re doing comfort food today. Fried chicken and all the fixin’s.”

They carried the pans of food out of the kitchen and placed them in the cafeteria style warming counter. There was already a line of kids, street people, and older hookers waiting in line.

“’bout time,” a woman in tattered gold sequins said from the center of the line.

“Don’t blame me,” Misha said. “The dynamic duo slept in.”

“I bet,” said a young man with dyed black hair and heavy eyeliner.

“James, James,” Misha said as he loaded mashed potatoes on a tray for the kid. “You shouldn’t judge people on appearances and their obvious animal attraction for one another. For all we know, Jay and Jackles are roommate monks who control their base urges through prayer and self-flagellation. “

James had already moved down the line in front of Jensen. “So you were late because you were flagellating yourselves? That sounds sad and kind of sexy,” he said to Jensen.

“Shut up, James,” Jensen said. “You don’t even know what ‘flagellate’ means.”

The kid shrugged. “Fellate, fornicate … something like that.”

Jared laughed. “Dude, we’ll buy you a dictionary.”

James was followed by familiar regulars and rookies – a tiny girl in an huge hoodie with a black eye, a homeless man named Mario who hid a rat terrier in his overcoat, a tired, old queen who knew them when – the loud and brash as well as the quiet and shy. The young kids knew the pair as friendly volunteers, but the older streetwalkers remembered when the boys had been in line with them at Misha’s old VW van.

When the city purchased the Arrington Hotel six years earlier, the expectation had been that it would be demolished to make room for another weed-choked vacant lot in the depressed neighborhood. A ripple of surprise and concealed hope had run through the streets when it was announced that it was to be turned into a community center. It would house counseling, education, employment, and health and childcare services. The gym would be refurbished for the use of residents. The ballroom would host community events.

Jared and Jensen were already living at Madame Devine’s by then, and they didn’t think much of it until they learned that Misha and Vickie would be moving their free meal program to the community center kitchen. Without much discussion between them, they’d simply showed up one Sunday and begun helping out. They brought soda, candy bars, and condoms. They increasingly donated money and supplies when government funding ran low. They were there every Sunday serving food, joking, smiling, listening for two or three hours until the last hungry body passed through the line. The handful of people who knew that they’d once been just like the kids in line never mentioned it.

Jared straightened from stooping over the nearly empty macaroni and cheese pan, raised his arms and stretched. “This counter needs to be higher,” he said.

“We aren’t all giants,” Misha said. He hefted the empty mashed potato pan and headed for the kitchen. Jared followed with the macaroni and cheese pan. Vickie was at the back counter scooping the few leftovers into take-out containers to give to latecomers. Another volunteer, Ty, was rinsing trays before putting them through the commercial dishwasher. Jensen was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, y’all seen Jen?” he asked.

“He went out that way,” Ty said with a nod to the door at the other end of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Jared said. He went through the door and into a service hallway. This portion of the building was closed off to the public and unused on Sundays. It wasn't an area they'd ventured into before. Jared looked up and down the dimly little corridor with its closed doors and single stairway leading up. It was from there that he heard what sounded like a door slamming shut.

He took the stairs two at a time and found Jensen standing on the second floor landing with his back to him.

“Jen?”

Jensen glanced at him a moment, turned away, and swiped his hand over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jared asked.

Jensen shook his head and squared his shoulders. “Nothing, I … just thinking.” He turned and walked past Jared. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jared watched Jensen head down the stairs. He looked around the landing. There was nothing where Jensen had been standing except a narrow door with a name plate that read _LINENS_. Jared remembered his nights in this place when it was a flophouse for addicts, whores, and runaways. He’d huddled under a staircase in the fifth floor listening to laughter and arguments and quiet sobs for seventeen nights until he’d met Jensen.

He didn’t catch up with Jensen until he was passing through the kitchen. Ty and Vickie paused in their tasks as Jensen strode past. He didn’t say a word as he walked out the back door. Misha had just come in from the dining room with a pan in his hands. His brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just … We have to run,” Jared said as he followed Jensen out.

The air was a like a hot, wet blanket when he stepped into the alleyway. The light was harsh and bright despite the clouds that hung over the city, and he put on his Ray Bans. Jensen sat in the driver’s seat of the black Lexus, which was pulled up close to the building. Jared was hit by a blast of cold air when he climbed in on the passenger side.

Jensen was faced slightly away from him, staring out the window. When he didn’t respond after a few moments, Jared broke the silence.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said.

Jensen took a deep breath and then let it out before speaking. “I told you once that there was no safe place in there.”

“Yeah,” Jared said thinking of his cubbyhole under the stairs.

“I thought I found a safe place.”

“Oh? … oh …” Jared pictured the linen closet, and his stomach dropped. It suddenly made sense. Jensen had lived there too once. Jared reached across the console and put a hand on Jensen’s arm. Jensen pulled away.

“All I wanted was to protect you,” Jensen said.

“You have.”

Jensen shook his head. “I pulled you deeper into this life.”

Jared twisted in the seat. “Jen, I chose to be with you, and I have never regretted that decision. Not for a minute.”

Jensen looked up through lowered lashes. “No?”

“How can you even think that?” Jared asked. He debated with himself before going on. “Do you remember that first day in your room when you told me that I hadn’t done anything that was so bad I couldn’t go home?”

Jensen nodded.

“You were right. I could have,” he said. “But … I knew that nothing had changed. All the reasons I left home would be there waiting for me, but _you_ , you were hope. I wanted to be with you. I know I was only sixteen and it was impulsive, but it was right.”

Jensen sniffed and a smile flickered over his face. “Impulsive decisions aren’t always bad.”

“No,” Jared said with a smile wide enough to show his dimples. He leaned across the console and met Jensen’s slightly parted lips with his own. He tipped his head, deepened the kiss when they were both startled by drumming on the hood of the SUV. They looked out to see James grinning at them. The boy stepped back when Jensen put the vehicle in gear and let it roll forward. He put his window down as he pulled alongside the kid.

“Some monks you are,” James said. “Nice wheels.”

“Thank you,” Jensen said. “Better not have scratched it.”

James held up his bare hands and then looked from one to the other. “What do you all do anyway?”

“We’re sex therapists,” Jensen deadpanned.

“Right,” James laughed. “Come on. What is it? Models? Chippendales dancers? What?”

“Would you believe body guards?” Jensen asked.

The kid’s eyes narrowed as he tried to decide if Jensen was messing with him.

“Hey,” Jared said, “did you get some condoms?” He grabbed a handful from the bag at his feet.

James shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

Jared saw the muscle in Jensen’s jaw jumped.

“It can make all the difference in the world, James,” Jared said.

Suddenly, he was a different kid – angry and belligerent. “How the fuck would you know with your designer shades and your fancy ride?” He didn’t have a moment to react when Jensen’s hand shot out, grabbed his shirt and yanked him against the side of the car.

“Because we know,” Jensen growled.

The kid’s eyes were round with surprise, and they flicked between the two men in the shiny vehicle. Jared nodded. “We’ve been where you are, James,” he said.

Jensen took the handful of condoms from Jared and shoved them into James’ hands. “You take them and use them like your life depends on it because it does,” Jensen said. “And you come back here tomorrow when the clinic is open and get tested. Understand me?”

James nodded, and Jensen let go of him. The boy stumbled back and stared at the brightly colored packets in his hands. Misha emerged from the kitchen door then.

“Hey, James! Wanna help me fold chairs in here?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” the boy answered and started to follow.

“James!” Jensen called.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t give up, man. There’s hope. There really is.”

James nodded and followed Misha back inside.

Jensen slouched in his seat, ran his hands over his face, and groaned.

“It was bound to get around at some point,” Jared said.

Jensen’s hands fell to his lap, and he side-eyed Jared. “I know.”

“Anyway, it’s not like he knows we’re still hooking,” Jared said.

Jensen nodded and put the vehicle in gear. Neither spoke until he’d pulled onto the main thoroughfare.

“About that,” Jared said.

“What?”

“Hooking,” Jared said. “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time for a change.”

~~~

Loretta was imperious as usual in red and gold brocade that displayed her ample bosom and glittering jewels. She sat at the head of her elegantly laden dining table with Jared on her left and Jensen on her right.

“So, you are sitting here at my table, eating my food, drinking my wine, telling me that you are going to steal money from my till,” she said. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat and on the hand that held a butter knife like a switchblade.

“We’re willing to kickback ten percent for the next three years on any client that follows us,” Jensen said. He forced himself to take a bite of asparagus even though his nervous stomach felt as though it would expel every bite. Candlelight flickered off china and crystal, and he thought of the things he and hundreds of others had done to pay for it.

“I’ve been getting fifty percent,” she said.

“You were providing the facility, security and other services,” Jensen said. “This way you’ll get ten for doing nothing.”

Loretta suppressed a smile. “Oh, I taught you about more than being a dom, didn’t I?”

“It’s time for us to grow our business,” Jared said. “I know you understand that.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “This was your idea, was it?”

“Jensen is an excellent dom, a natural, and you know it. I sure as hell do,” Jared said. “It only makes sense to focus our business on a specialty like that.”

“You don’t have enough bdsm clients,” she said. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine.

“No, not yet,” Jensen said, “but we have other clients with similar needs, enough to get us started.”

“Where do you plan to do this?” she asked.

“There’s an empty loft below ours,” Jared said.

She nodded. “Convenient.” She took a bite of lobster and chewed thoughtfully. “One word to the right people, and I could shut you down, put both your pretty asses in jail.”

“But you won’t,” Jensen said, “because our client list doesn’t overlap that much, and if you did, you’d get nothing.”

“And you love us,” Jared added.

She smiled. “That I do, but you know I don’t let personal feelings get in the way of business,” she said.

“Exactly,” Jensen said. “You’re angry. I get that, but you also see that this makes sense for us, and it’s the best we can do for you.”

She lifted her chin and peered at him. “Twenty percent,” she said.

Jensen shook his head. “Can’t do it,” he said. “We’ve got start up costs, overhead. Ten percent for 18 months; then fifteen. That’s the best we can do.”

Loretta hissed breath out through her teeth. “You were always were a tough little son of a bitch,” she said.

“He learned from the best,” Jared said.

She chuckled. “And the flatterer – what a pair,” she said. “It’s a deal. We’ll talk details over drinks. Now eat up. You’re both too thin.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jared said before popping a shrimp in his mouth.

“Impertinent little cuss,” Loretta said. “I could still turn you over my knee.”

Jensen tried to suppress a smirk by taking a drink of wine.

“You too, Mister,” she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time I tanned your hide.”

Jared threw back his head and laughed.

“It was training,” Jensen said. Jared clapped his hands and guffawed. “Shut up,” Jensen said and kicked Jared under the table.

“Boys! That’s no way to behave at the dinner table,” Loretta scolded, but the hint of smile played in her eyes. “Honestly, settle down now.”

Jared wiped at his eyes with his napkin, and Jensen sullenly took a bite of rice. Loretta watched Jared pick up his fork and break off a chunk of lobster meat. “I have to wonder what kind of handprint you’d leave on his lily white ass though,” she said to Jared who snorted with renewed laughter.

Jensen dropped his cutlery with a clank and glared at his laughing dinner companions. After a moment, he nodded and fixed Jared with dark gaze that sobered him quickly. “You just wait until we get home,” Jensen said.

Jared’s breath seemed to catch in his throat, and he held Jensen’s gaze as his cheeks heated up. “We, um ...” Jared broke eye contact with Jensen, and looked down at his plate. “We may not be able to stay for dessert,” he said.

Loretta gave Jensen a knowing look. “Well, I’m serving cheesecake but apparently you’re offering something ... sweeter.”

Jensen gave her a smug smile in return.

 

 _Talk to me._


	9. Tuesday in November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Jensen build their new business and manage employees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went commando. Sorry for errors.

Jared straightened Jensen’s tie. The back of his elegant fingers smoothed the white dress shirt beneath. “God, you look hot,” he said. “Wish I could undress you right now.”

Jensen smiled. “We have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in there,” Jared said. He ran his fingers along the edge of the lapels of Jensen’s suit jacket, unwilling to break contact.

“Right. What’s the guy’s name again?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “His name’s on the application – Christopher Heyerdahl – not that you’ll use.”

Jensen smirked and brushed Jared’s hair behind his ear. “Be ready for your cue.”

“You can count on me,” he said.

“I know,” Jensen replied.

The room he entered looked like an ordinary business office – a heavy oak faced the door and in the guest chair with his back to the door was a man with thinning hair.

He circled around to face the man. “Applicant. I’m Jake Gray, HR Director here at AP Enterprises.” He offered his hand to the man who half rose from his chair to shake it. Gray waved his hand for the man to sit. “Relax, relax.”

“Mr. Gray, I appreciate you taking the time ...”

“Think nothing of it,” he cut the guy off mid-sentence. There was something grating and whiny about the applicant’s voice. Gray sat one ass-cheek on the edge of his desk and examined the job application. “It says here that you are interested in ‘any position, entry level and up’, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the applicant replied.

Gray nodded. “That’s surprising given your work experience, education, and references here.”

“The economy is very bad, Mr. Gray,” he said as he peered up at Gray with piercing eyes set in a narrow, almost emaciated face. His voice made the hair stand up on the back of Gray’s neck. He didn’t recognize it, not really, and yet there was something so familiar about it that his pulse quickened. “I was laid off from my previous job almost six months ago, Mr. Gray. The job market is tight. A man can’t afford to be picky.”

“Tell me what kind of work you are willing to do,” Gray said. His collar felt too tight, and he resisted adjusting it.

“I’m willing to start at the bottom, Mr. Gray,” the applicant said. “Whatever might be required.”

Gray pushed himself away from the desk and circled behind the man who continued talking.

“I’ve done all types of work,” the applicant continued. He turned his head slightly trying to follow Gray’s movement. “From scrubbing floors on my knees to desk work.”

“I’m in need of a personal assistant,” Gray said as he loosened his tie and pulled it off.

“I would be most amendable to that kind of position, Mr. Gray.” The voice was insidious. It slithered down Gray’s nerves, squirming and scrabbling into dark, raw places long locked away. For a moment hands held him down in the dark, hot space filled with the smell of cheap liquor. He didn’t hear the man’s words as he droned on, but he had to stop that voice. He wound the ends of the tie around his fists. When he wrapped it around the man’s throat, the voice faltered.

“The most important attribute I consider in an employee is discipline,” Gray said, snapping back to himself. The tie was just tight enough that the man had to be hearing his blood pounding in his ears, but loose enough that he could still draw breath. “This isn’t one of those feel-good teamwork kinds of places. You would have to do what I say without question. Are you still interested?”

“Yes,” the applicant nodded and gasped.

Gray tightened the tie around the man’s neck. “Shut up, worm,” he growled. “Not another word unless you want out.” He held the ends of the tie until the man’s face was bright red, approaching purple. He released the fabric in his left hand and stepped back. The applicant bent forward and drew in great rasping breaths. His hands rubbed his throat. Gray took a step back and willed his heartbeat to calm. His hands shook as he waited for the applicant to safeword when he’d caught his breath, but he didn’t speak.

“Stand up,” Gray ordered. He watched the applicant rise to his feet. “Take your clothes off, fold them, and lay them on the desk in front of you,” he said to the applicant’s back. He grabbed the guest chair and pulled it back against the wall, so the man was left alone in the center of the floor. Gray leaned against the wall and watched him strip the blue button-down from his lean torso. He folded it and laid it on the desk. He kicked his loafers off but hesitated to set them on the desk.

“It’s a simple instruction,” Gray said. “Put them on the desk. I’m keeping score here.”

The applicant picked up his shoes but half turned and started to speak.

“Shut up and face forward,” Gray ordered. He pushed away from the wall and stepped directly behind the man.  “I already told you not to speak. How fucking hard can these directions be for you? No wonder you haven’t found a job.”  His breath ruffled the hair on the back of the man’s neck, and the applicant’s hands froze on his belt buckle. “Keep going,” Gray said.  
The applicant unbuckled his belt and lowered his fly. Gray took a step back as the man dropped his trousers and stepped out of them. He folded them and laid them on top of the shirt. He was wearing white briefs with Hanes printed on the elastic waistband. They clung loosely to his narrow hips.

“How utilitarian,” Gray observed. “Take them off.”

The man pushed them down his thin legs and folded them atop the pile.

“Now put your hands behind your back,” Gray said. He grasped the man’s wrists and bound them with the tie at the small of his back. “Get on your knees.”

He continued holding the man’s wrists and helped him kneel. He walked in front of him and leaned against the desk. “I need to get some more information from you, Applicant. Just answer ‘yes, Sir’ and ‘no, Sir’, all right?”

“Yes, Sir,” the applicant said. The skin at his throat was red and chafed, and his cock hung limp between his legs, but Gray saw the challenge in his deep-set eyes.

“Do you type?” Gray asked.

The applicant’s brows rose. “Yes, Sir.” There was that voice again, oozing like slug into Gray’s ear.

“Do you take dictation?”

“No, Sir.”

Gray almost shuddered at the sound, but he didn’t let it show. “Do you know how to use Excel?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Can you pick up my dry-cleaning? Make personal appointments? Lie to my mother?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you make good coffee?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Will you work unscheduled evenings?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Will you perform personal, distasteful, even demeaning tasks?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Prove it.”

The applicant shuffled forward on his knees and bent down until he was close enough to lick the shiny toe of Gray’s wingtip. Gray didn’t speak. He focused on the man’s tied wrists and resisted the urge to kick him away.

“Stop it!” he said after a few moments. The applicant knelt up, and Gray could have sworn he saw insolence in the man’s expression. Gray observed the man a few moments before speaking. “I get my shoes shined in the lobby while I read the paper,” he said. He turned and picked up the application.

“Please, Sir.” There was a note of panic in the oily voice. “Let me prove myself to you.”

Gray shot him a cold stare. “I told you not to speak.”

The applicant dropped his head.

“I’ll give you another chance,” Gray said when what he wanted was to get as far from the applicant as possible. Instead of moving away, he lowered his fly. “I’m a busy man, and the men’s room is 50 feet down the hallway. Show me that you can be an effective urinal, and I’ll put you on the short list.”

The applicant raised his head, looked Gray in the eye, and opened his mouth wide. Gray took his cock in his hand and aimed at the glistening, pink tongue. As he let loose a stream of urine, he imagined it was acid burning out the offending vocal chords, but he didn’t let his little fantasy distract him from his job. He made sure that plenty of urine missed the man’s wide open mouth and ran down his body, dribbling onto the tile floor. Bright eyes glazed over as the man’s throat worked thirstily to swallow every drop, but liquid spilled over and ran down his chin and neck.

Gray shook the last drops into the waiting maw, tucked in, and zipped up. The applicant’s cock was fully hard, curving up toward his thin belly. Urine pooled beneath him.

“Looks like you did a piss poor job of that,” Gray sneered. He went behind his desk and sat down. He picked up the phone. “Could you come into my office, please? Thanks.”

A tall man in gray coveralls entered with a wheeled-bucket and mop.

“Sorry to have to call you in, J.T. I’m afraid that the applicant has failed his pre-employment test and made a mess,” Gray said.

The custodian rolled the bucket around the applicant who still knelt with head lowered. J.T.’s eyebrows flew up, and he gave Gray a questioning look when he saw the red, mottled skin on the man’s neck. Gray returned the look with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“Did you even give him a chance?” J.T. asked. He rung the mop out and slapped it on the floor.

“Doesn’t it look like it?”

“Well, you are kind of a ballbuster, Mr. Gray,” J.T. said as he swirled water around the applicant’s knees. “Why don’t you give him another chance.”

“My bladder’s empty,” Gray said.

“Mine’s not,” J.T. said with a grin.

“What do you think, Applicant? Would you like a second chance?” Gray asked.

“Yes, Sir, I won’t disappoint you,” the applicant replied.

Gray snorted. “All right, J.T., give him the test.”

The custodian leaned the mop against the wall and took position with his feet spread in front of the applicant. He slowly unzipped the gray uniform exposing the golden bare skin of his chest, abs, the trimmed hair of his groin. He pulled out his cock, impressive even when soft. The applicant already had his face turned upward and his mouth wide when J.T. took his cock in hand and directed a heavy stream of urine toward it. The man’s throat worked in long swallows that drained the piss steadily down his throat. Color stood high in his cheeks and his eyes became unfocused and blissful as those of an idolator. When the last drops hit his tongue, only a thin dribble ran from the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know, Mr. Gray. I think he did pretty well,” J.T. said. “And look at that – his cock is leaking.”

“Son of a bitch,” Gray rose from his chair and walked around the desk. “He certainly makes a lot of messes.”

J.T. leaned back against the desk and nudged the applicant’s sac with the toe of his work boot. Precome left a dark stain on the brown leather. He pressed the sole of the boot against the underside of the applicant’s cock, smashing it against his belly. “You’ll have to punish him,” J.T. said.

“Yeah, get him up,” Gray said.

J.T. bent down and dragged the man to his feet. “Where do you want him, Sir?”

“Over the desk,” Gray said. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops of his trousers.

J.T. bent the man over the desk and moved to the other side of it. He untied the applicant’s wrists and pulled his hands upward and pinned them to the desk on each side of his head. The applicant’s legs hung down with his toes barely touching the floor. Gray stood behind the prone man with his belt looped in his right hand.

“Are you still interested in the position, Applicant?” he asked.

“Yes, _Sir_ ,” the man said through gritted teeth.

Gray’s lip curled into a vicious grimace as he brought the belt down across the man’s buttocks with a crack. The applicant’s body jerked in response, but J.T. held his arms firmly to the thick wood of the desktop.

“That’s one, Applicant. Are you sure you want to be my personal assistant?”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” the voice whined.

The belt fell across the applicant’s ass with enough force to make the man’s thin legs kick the air. Gray met J.T.’s gaze and smiled. Blows fell across the applicant’s thighs and ass cheeks accompanied by the sound of leather snapping against firm flesh and the harsh gasps from the man’s throat. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to hold back moans, and his body convulsed as an orgasm hit, splashing his release across the front of the desk. Gray didn’t stop. He brought the belt down again and again. The applicant’s skin was bright red and deepening to bruises when he finally cried out. Gray brought the belt down with renewed vigor despite the burn in his muscles.

“I’m sorry!” the applicant screamed.

Gray hesitated. “You what?”

“I, I’m sorry,” the applicant sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Gray stepped back from the man. “Let him go,” he said to J.T. “Get on your knees and clean up the mess you made.”

The applicant slid to the floor and licked the sticky splatter of his come from the front panel of the desk. Gray watched, expressionless, as the man crawled across the floor and licked his precome from the tile, which was still damp with piss and mop water.

“Stop,” Gray said. “Are you still interested in the position, Applicant?”

“Yes, Sir,” the applicant said. He sounded meek and servile.

“Clean yourself up and be here bright and early Monday morning,” Gray said.

“I ... yes, Sir,” he said.

“Did you have a question?”

“Is there a dress code, Sir?”

“Osric will give you the employee handbook on your way out,” Gray said. He pressed a button on the phone. “There’s a restroom through here.” Gray pointed to a door at the back of the room. He exited into the hallway followed by J.T. They walked the short distance to the reception room.

“Call a cab for the client and then check and see if Allaina needs any help,” Jensen said to the young man at the desk. “Make sure he’s hydrated.”

“Yes, Sir,” Osric said.

“Oh and Osric, don’t call me ‘Sir,’” Jensen said.

“Yes, um, okay, Mr. Ackles.”

“‘Jensen’ is fine, thanks.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and went down the hall to the locker room. His shoulders were stiff and he imagined the feel of hot water running over them as he stripped off his shirt.

“He didn’t want aftercare?” Jared asked.

“Specifically not,” Jensen said. “Thank God,” he added under his breath.

Jared sat down on a bench and started to unlace the work boots. “Glad we’re done for the day,” he said.

Jensen turned and smiled. “Yeah, I think it went well.”

Jared nodded, but his brow was furrowed. “You are scary good at this.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nodded as though distracted. He tossed the shirt aside and took off his trousers. “Hey, you know what we haven’t done for a long time?”

“What?” Jared peeled his white socks off, but his eyes were on Jensen’s body.

“Let’s go down to Clancy’s, eat some barbeque, drink a few beers, play pool.”

Jared nodded and smiled. “Sounds good, and whoever wins three out of four gets a blowjob in the men’s room.”

Jensen laughed. “Dude, you never win. You must really want to blow me.”

“That’s not fair,” Jared said. He stood and put an arm around Jensen’s waist. “I can beat you.”

“Really think so? Tell you what, if you win, I’ll let you fuck me in the men’s room.”

Jared did a dirty rub against him. “Oh man, I am so gonna win.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jared said and kissed him. “Either way, a win for you is a win for me.”

“Got that right.”

~~~

Jared was stretched out across the pool table as he watched the eight ball slowly roll toward the corner pocket. Jensen eyes weren’t on the ball. He was appreciating that long, lean body, the way denim clung to the rounded swell of asscheeks, cotton stretched over broad shoulders, soft hair clung to the damp nape of neck.

A wide smile spread across Jared’s face, dimples creasing his cheeks, as the black ball rattled into the pocket. He met Jensen’s gaze as he rose and gave him a wink. He racked his cue and headed toward the men’s room.

Jensen watched him duck into the darkened hallway at the back of the barroom, put his own cue away, and followed a few minutes later. The restroom was dimly lit, small, with only one handicapped stall,  two urinals, and two sinks. He could see Jared’s boots beneath the stall partition and the door was unlatched. He pushed it open. Jared was leaning against the wall. His hand rubbed over the bulge in his jeans.

“You lose,” he said.

Jensen smiled. “And yet I win.” He shut the stall door and latched it. He pressed against Jared who grabbed Jensen’s ass and pulled him close. He caught Jensen’s mouth in a devouring kiss. Jensen moaned into his mouth and broke the kiss.

“We could get interrupted at any moment,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jared said. “Wouldn’t want that.”

They stepped apart and worked at opening their flies. Jensen pushed his jeans down around his knees and shuffled to face the wall. There was a time when the position would have brought back memories of alleys and strangers, but not for a long time now. The hands that held him were familiar. Whether gentle or rough, he could trust them. A long finger slid down his crease and probed deeper.

“Already slick,” Jared said. “You let me win, Jen?”

His breath quickened as the digit pushed inside him. “Course not, just thought I ought to be prepared.”

“Such a Boy Scout,” Jared whispered in his ear. “Dirty boy.”

“You have no idea,” Jensen said.

“Oh, I think I do,” Jared replied. His finger slipped from Jensen’s hole, and the thick head of his cock pushed against the opening. “All slick and ready to be fucked in the men’s room.  
Want it, Jen?”

“Yeah,” he gasped. He pushed his ass back against the intrusion, and it opened him wide. He moaned at the familiar burn and stretch. His cock ached and oozed precome. He put his forehead against the cool tile as Jared pushed deep inside him.

“Jesus,” Jared cursed as he pulled out to the rim. His cock punched back in, his body pressing Jensen firmly to the wall but for the hand that snaked between, grasped Jensen’s dick and began to strip it in time to his thrusts. Jared owned him, inside and out, lit up his body and calmed his mind. Within moments his balls were drawing up, and his come was coating the wall and Jared’s hand. Jared brought the hand up to Jensen’s mouth and pushed his fingers between Jensen’s lips. Jared moaned and thrust harder as Jensen suckled his release from them. Jared’s breath was harsh in Jensen’s ear, and his ass hadn’t gotten the message that he’d already come as it contracted again and again around Jared’s cock.

“Fuck,” Jared spit out. He pushed deeper and stilled as he creamed Jensen’s channel. “Fuck, Jesus fucking Christ, your ass, Jen.” Jared kissed Jensen’s neck.

Jensen’s chuckle died in his throat when he heard the shuffle of feet outside the stall. Jared grabbed a wad of toilet tissue and pressed it against Jensen’s hole as he withdrew his cock. Jensen wiped and tossed it into the toilet and replaced it with a folded length tissue. They exchanged smirks and grins as they tucked in and zipped up.

They heard the sound of the outer door and receding boot heels. “I think we’re alone,” Jensen said. He started to open the stall door but was stopped by Jared’s hand on his. He gave Jared a questioning look and was pulled into Jared’s arms.

“What happened today with the applicant?” Jared asked.

“What do you mean?” Jensen asked.

“He didn’t sign up for breath play, did he?”

“Oh that.” Jensen disengaged himself from Jared’s arms and leaned against the stall.

“Yeah, that,” Jared said.

“I don’t know, his voice reminded me of someone, something bad, and I had to shut him up.” Jensen looked away as Jared’s eyes searched his face.

“Was he the one?” Jared asked.

Jensen nodded like he was being jerked with a string. “He was one of them.”

Jared slumped against the wall with a grimace. “We can’t have him as a client.”

Jensen felt anger flare in his chest and sizzle across the empty space of the stall between them. “Why not?”

Jared’s jaw dropped a moment before his nostrils flared and he stood straight. “Because  ... how can you not kill him? Jesus, how can I not?”

“Because it isn’t your revenge to take,” Jensen said. “And death would be too easy.”

“How can you call it revenge when he got off on it?” Jared demanded.

“That won’t happen again,” Jensen replied with images of devices and techniques to prevent just that flashing in his mind. “I may train him to never come again. Hell, I may train erections out of him entirely.”

“That would be better revenge than death,” Jared agreed.

“So you’ll let me have it?”

Jared ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re never alone with him, not for a moment.” The anger had dissipated, but it was clear from Jared’s expression that he wouldn’t negotiate the point.

“And you won’t kill him,” Jensen said.

“And I won’t kill him.”

“Agreed.”

“Pinky swear,” Jared said. His lips twitched.

They both kissed the end of their little fingers and hooked them together. Jensen laughed. “You are such a giant child.”

“Yeah? Then you are a giant pervert.” Jared said. They dropped hands.

“I don’t think there’s any question on that point,” Jensen said.

Jared took his face in his hands and kissed him. “So, we’re perfect for each other. That’s not news.”

-30-

 _Talk to me._


End file.
